


These Saturday Nights

by Guendoleona



Category: Fallout (Video Games), Fallout 4
Genre: F/M, Friendship, Light Angst, Loss, Romance, Slow Burn
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-12-25
Updated: 2016-06-19
Packaged: 2018-05-09 03:01:49
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 19
Words: 26,258
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5522948
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Guendoleona/pseuds/Guendoleona
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Two people search the Commonwealth for revenge and redemption, running from the past and into each other.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

She presses her back into the couch and sinks in, the softness of the cushions providing a welcome contrast to the floors she slept on over the last few days. She reaches for the glass in front of her, filled with amber liquid, and savors every drop, enjoying the light burning sensation the bourbon leaves at the back of her throat as the heat works itself in deeper. It's raw and real. A chance to feel something other than the melancholy despair that haunts every corner of the Commonwealth. There’s something incredibly comforting about sitting in a dimly lit bar surrounded by strangers. Even now, after everything that happened, there are still people out for a drink on a Saturday night, enjoying a measure of normalcy in this crazy world. 

Allie closes her eyes and revels in the moment as Magnolia croons softly, her song a heart breaking mix of pain and nostalgia. She senses the shift in the fabric of this place a moment before she sees him casually leaning against the bar, eyes fixed on her. Certain people have the power to make time and space flow around them while they walk through it, mostly unaware, the only indication the trail of change they left behind. Her body tenses almost imperceptibly, preparing to fight, to run. She takes a slow deep breath as he leaves the bar and sits beside her, a bottle of whiskey in one hand, two glasses in the other. 

“Can I get you a drink?” He says softly, blue eyes, the bluest she’s ever seen, firmly fixed on hers. Allie nods and holds his gaze as she reaches over and takes the glass, her fingers gently brushing his. She takes a long and a drop of whiskey trickles down from her lip and onto her chin. "Thank you." She angles her body towards him, letting her hand casually brush against the holster on her waist. "I've not seen you in Goodneighbour before." She takes in the rugged scar that runs across his left cheek, the outline of his shoulders beneath the casual white t-shirt and the tilted cap that semi conceals his dark hair. Her eyes drift downward to the knee high boots, a blade expertly tucked in each, and then back to the holster on his side before returning to the eyes that are too blue to have a place in this new world. 

“You could say I’m new to the area.” He drawls, mirroring her. She notes the tenseness in his shoulders while he notices the way her hand in never further than a few inches from a weapon all while his right foot and her left, tap rhythmically in an off kilter fashion, haphazard to the casual observer but serving as a mental reminder to remain present in the moment. 

“You like what you see so far?” She smiles lightly, her eyes soft. He doesn’t answer and instead reaches over and takes the glass from her hand and finishes her drink before pouring another one. This time it is his turn to brush her fingers and she feels a light tingle down her spine. He is checking her reactions, the dance between them changing tempo. His hand lingers there, a second too long and yet not long enough. Her eyes finally leave his face and wander back down, settling on the bull barreled .44 at his hip. With a smile still playing on her lips, she draws her own side arm, ejects the magazine and places it on the table, grip towards him. It’s a beautiful silenced 10mm that reminds her of the old world ppk, used by suave film stars to take down equally fantastical villains, the kind that wouldn't last a second in this damned place. It’s been her favorite ever since Deacon quietly handed it to her the day they found Tommy dead. The day she’d taken his name as a way of sending silent thanks to the great beyond.

“I’ll show you mine if you show me yours.” She beams, her lips light pursed in an amused expression. 

He pulls the .44 out and carefully places it on the table after making sure it's empty. She picks it up gently, fingers lightly running over it, admiring the tight fit of the slide, the beautifully crafted grip, its weight..

“It’s beautiful. I’ve not seen one in this condition in a while.” She hands it back and he holsters it before picking up hers. _Deliverer_ , she’d called it, quietly fighting for freedom. A tribute to the man who died protecting others through his silence.

“It shoots 10mm?”

“Yes.”

“Unusual.” He mutters as he turns it. “May I?” She nods and he expertly takes it apart.”

“How’s the recoil?” He asks, noting the lightness.

“Surprisingly good.” She shows him the work she’d done on the barrel, extending it slightly before adding the suppressor, the weight of it dissipating most of the recoil.

“You know my rule about stripping guns on the table.” Whitehall Charlie floats over to them, his tone half amusement, half resignation.

“Sorry Charlie.” She smiles and puts Deliverer back together before holstering it again. “How about I buy a bottle of Bourbon to make up for it?” She presses a handful of caps to him and he floats back towards the bar muttering “Just this once.”

“You strip guns here often?” His blue eyes are fixed on hers again, flickering with something resembling amusement.

“I find it relaxing.” She shrugs. “Sometimes all you need after days of being out there” she waves towards the Commonwealth “is a good drink and a gun to clean. Charlie is great about it but some of the patrons… well, I can understand.”

Charlie comes back with the bottle. 

“You know I’ve got that room out back. Got a couch and a table. What you do there… well, what you do there is your business.”

She presses another few caps into his hand and grabs the bottle before turning to face Blue Eyes. 

“You want to join me? I've got a cleaning kit with me.”

He remains seated, frozen for a moment before he nods and follows her and the fabric that surrounds them shifts imperceptibly. The room is small and musty but cozy. She takes off her leather satchel and opens it, laying its contents out on the table. Some clean cloths. Oil. A few select grades of sandpaper and some other odds and ends. Blue Eyes pours the drinks and they sit side by side, enjoying the peace brought by the repetitive action. After almost an hour, he finally breaks the silence.

“I haven’t done this in a long time.”He says, adjusting the slide back into place.

“What, cleaned your gun?” She chuckles. "I'm not sure you should be telling me something that personal yet. We've only just met." Her easy laugh disarms him and he shakes his head, allowing himself to feel the kind of levity he hasn't experienced in a long time.

“Found the time to just… be.”

“Why not?" she asks. “It feels like a needless indulgence when there are so many other things that need... doing." He shrugs and his eyes wander back to his fire arm, now glinting by the light of the lantern. 

“It’s not an indulgence.” She says after a while. “Doing this… it can put other things in perspective. Sometimes you’ve got to get your own shit together before you can do anything else. Plus, if you don’t you’ll likely get your head blown up and that…” her smile spreads wider but this time, it doesn’t quite hit her eyes "is something to be avoided if possible.” "Do you often offer advice to strangers?" "You aren't a stranger." She says and for a moment she looks at him, eyes opened wide, like she can see into his soul. Then her eyes narrow again, the corners of her mouth shoot up and the moment is gone. "We've had a whole bottle of whiskey. I'm pretty sure in some places that would makes us family." There’s a light knock on the door and a man he doesn’t recognize pokes his head in. “Time to go boss.” he says, looking at her and she nods before he closes the door and disappears.

“Thanks for this.” She smiles and then, caught by the whimsy of the moment, leans towards him and gently plants a kiss on his cheek. “I hope to see you around. Friend.”

Before he can think, before he can act, she is across the room, her hand on the doorknob.

“What's your name?” he calls after her.

“You better figure that out before I see you again” she grins " or things may get a little awkward." 

He sits in silence a few moments after she's gone, his hand resting on the spot where she kissed him.


	2. Chapter 2

When he walks in she is already there, crosslegged on the couch in the small room, eyes half closed, a rifle across her knees. She looks relaxed but he knows that that would change in a less than a second if she senses a threat. He often assumes that pose himself- it invites those around him to relax, to drop their guard, to not pay as much attention to what they say or do.

“Did you bring something to drink?” She says softly, not opening her eyes, as she nods lightly towards the empty bottle on the table.

He unscrews the top of the bottle of bourbon he bought from Whitechapel Charlie and pours the amber liquid into two glasses. He hands her one and settles into a chair across from her.

“You can join me on the couch,” she drawls, finally opening her eyes as she takes a long sip. “I don’t bite. Plus, I brought this to show you. It’s my current favorite, been working on some mods for it and I'd like to get your thoughts.”

He picks the rifle up and runs his fingers along the stock, taking note of the weight and the feel of it in his hand. 

“It shoots .50?” He says incredulously. “Most snipers I know use .308.”

“I started off with that but I needed more power. This bad boy can take out most targets with a single headshot. Good for an in and out kind of job.”

“That’s probably more to do with the talent of the person shooting it.” He smiles slightly as she takes another long sip of her drink and looks at him thoughtfully, like she measuring him up against a standard only she can see.

“What was the last shot you made?” she asks finally and he knows she means sniper shot, the kind that takes planning and taking the windspeed and the target’s movement into account. The kind they didn’t see coming and you were in and out before anyone knew what was happening. The kind he hadn’t made since leaving the Capitol Wasteland.

“Longer than I’d like.” He says, his voice dripping with regret.

“What are you doing for the rest of the night?” She grins and places the rifle in his hands.

“I…” he stumbles.

“There’s someone I’ve promised to take out." She continues before he has a chance to finish. "Crusher. Leader of a gang of Super-mutants who’ve been terrorizing some abandoned apartments near here. He’s got his sights set on Goodneighbour and the Mayor… well, let's say he likes to discourage that kind of thinking. You in?”

“Yes” he says before the responsibilities that weigh on him have the chance to make him reconsider. Before he remembers who he is and why he is here. Allie smiles at him, the kind of smile that makes him weak in the knees then grasps his hand and pulls him to his feet. They are about the same height, with him perhaps and inch taller and looking into her eyes now makes him want to pull her to him, to hold her and feel the inexplicable closeness. To satisfy the need she'd awoken when she’d planted that kiss on his cheek.

“First you take the shot and then…” She takes a step closer towards him and now there are mere inches between them. He feels the heat radiating from her body and fights the urge to wrap his arms around her. As quickly as she’d closed the distance between them she takes a step backwards, pivots on her heel and walks towards the exit. He slings her rifle over his shoulder, grabs the leather sniper bag she’d left beside it and follows. Allie leads him to the top of one of the buildings, moving slowly and quietly, making sure nothing and no-one sees or hears them, then crosses a few roofs until she stops and sinks to her heels. He crouches next to her and she points towards a light a few rooftops ahead. 

“He is there. He usually has about four others with him, some patrolling the stairs and some at street level. That stairwell is where he waits for any stragglers looking for a place to spend the night.” She speaks quickly and quietly with the kind of level to her voice that shows she doesn’t want to contemplate their meaning too deeply because thinking about certain things too much… thinking about anything that went on in the Commonwealth too much… It was enough to drive anyone over the edge.

“If you line up the shot from the roof, I can sneak down there and drive the other ones off. You can pick them off from here, one by one. Then I’ll meet you back at the Third Rail?”He nods, already visualizing the best position to take up. “Be careful,” he calls softly after her as she is about to take the fire escape down onto the street, gun already drawn.

“Always am.” She grins and blows him a kiss before her head disappears from view. He moves forward slowly, making sure he doesn’t disturb any of the loose tiles that no one has bothered fixing in over two hundred years then takes up position behind a semi-standing chimney and sets up the rifle, lying down on his stomach as he steadies himself. Crusher is easily recognizable by the necklace of femurs around his neck, the remnants of his dinner that weren’t hanging from the numerous meat bags that litter the place. Trophies.

He watches his complete the patrol once then twice and as Crusher pauses for the third time to observe the Commonwealth, he pulls the trigger, releasing the breath he’s been holding. The bullet tears through his head and Crusher falls, knocked of balance, landing flat on the street. That’s when he sees her throw a few grenades into the crumbling building, drawing the super mutants’ attention to her as she darts from cover to cover, firing shots with the semi-automatic rifle he’d seen her pick up from the Assaultron that manned the gun store. Apparently Charlie didn’t like her taking all her weapons down into the pub either. He starts picking them off one by one, causing further confusion as they can no longer tell where all the shots are coming from. And in a few short minutes, the Super-mutants lie dead and silence settles over the rooftops once again. He picks up the rifle, policing his brass by habit, and heads back to the Third Rail. 

“That was a great shot.” She is standing at the door, a few bloodstains on her clothes, but otherwise unharmed. “Had to skirt around some raiders on the way back.” She props her rifle against the door before pouring a drink. “How was she?”

“Excellent condition- and that trigger pull? It’s one of the most responsive rifles I’ve ever handled.”

“A soldier is only as good as the weapon in their hand.”

“A soldier?” He says softly. Danse hadn’t said much more about her than she was a mercenary that handled a gun exceptionally well. Someone they should have on their side. Since his arrival in the Commonwealth, she’d helped out more than a few Brotherhood patrols from tight spots all without asking for anything in return. And then there was the time she’d carried a wounded scribe back to Cambridge station after he’d just witnessed his entire team torn apart by a death claw. That’s when he’d decided he had to meet her. Ask her to join them. And yet, he couldn’t get the words out.

“My mother. My father.” She says softly, gently swirling the liquid in her glass. “ My husband. I guess I never had much of a choice. I tried walking a different path for a while but this… this always found me.”

“Are they…” He says, only half a question.

“Dead. Yours?”

“Dead.”

“Well aren’t we a matching pair?” She smiles mirthlessly and finishes her drink before she turns to face him and shifts her body closer to his. “Enough sharing for tonight?” She says, her face now mere inches from his, her eyes boring into his, and his knees feel weak again and all he wants to do is pull her close and make it all ok. She leans in and kisses him softly, an almost chaste kiss filled with the affection of shared experiences before she leans against him, head resting on his shoulder. He takes her hand in his, tracing her fingers and the lines of her palm with his own, watching as a shiver runs down her spine and she scoots in closer.

“Now, tell me about the first time you used a sniper rifle.” She says and leans in further still, until his arms are fully wrapped around her and she can hear his heart beat.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> \- Later part of the chapter covers the beginning of the "Shadow of Steel" quest so spoilers :)

“You ready?” She whispers, scope to her eye, torso pressed to the earth, rifle propped up on a crumbling wall.

“Almost.” He is stretched out next to her, supporting himself on his elbows, checking his final alignment. “Ready.”

“On three.” She says and they fire, bullets flying through the air in tandem. In the distance, two raiders fall of the ledge of a building, their bodies tumbling down towards the street. A third wakes up suddenly, as if sensing the loss of his comrades, before he feels a sudden warmth in his chest and everything goes black.

Rifles slung over their shoulders, they cautiously make their way towards the building. The front door is locked so she pulls out a bobby pin and works on it for a few seconds before it yields a satisfactory click. They clear the building room by room, sweeping from the bottom to the top where they find the settler, arms and legs tied tightly together, his eyes uncertain yet begging for help.

“Don’t worry” she whispers as she reaches him and pulls the gag from his mouth while Arthur does a final explosives sweep of the room. “We are with the Minutemen.”

“Thank you,” the settler manages, his voice raspy from overuse and the stress of the last few days. “I didn’t think I’d ever make it out of here… They… They said…” And then tears are streaming down his face and his body is shaking, the body relaxing in the wake of a horror almost over.

“It’s going to be alright.” She whispers and holds his hand for a few moments while he gathers himself. “Let’s get you home.”

***

“You often risk your life to save others?”

They are back at the Third Rail, three months after the first time he’d walked in there. Now he comes every Saturday night without exception, under the pretext of studying secured military texts at the old Commonwealth library. Three months and he still hasn’t been able to ask her the question. Three months and she seems to know him better than anyone has in a long time. Three months, but she’s never asked his name or what he is doing here. 

“Only when necessary.”

“And how often is it necessary?” He counters.

“More often than I’d like. Still, I swore to protect and serve and a word once given…Well, let’s say that even the end of the world doesn't change that.”

She talks about the old world sometimes, more in snippets and half sentences than anything else sharing bits of her history without guardedness or pretense. 

“What about you?”

“What?”

“The life risking thing- what makes you do it?”

“I…”

He’s made speeches about it, about the reasons the Brotherhood are here, about duty, about what they stand for. But now, faced with her direct question he isn’t sure how to answer it. She isn’t asking him about why the Brotherhood does things, she is asking him. Not about seizing technology or the Institute or his mission but why he joins her, every Saturday night for the last three months, on rescue missions, on helping small people with menial tasks, on clearing feral ghouls and comforting farm hands and destroying super mutant nests not because they sit on something valuable but because they are kidnapping and terrorizing civilians. Because in world that’s lost all sense, it’s the right thing to do.

“I care about them you know… The people of the Commonwealth.”

She looks at him, eyes boring into his, for what seems like an eternity. Like she is trying to see something beyond his words, trying to pull out the hidden thoughts burrowing at the back of his mind. 

She gets up and rummages through her leather sack and pulls out a small box then sets it on the table before him.

“Don’t open it until after I’ve gone.” She says and there is a sudden shift in her eyes and her demeanor, a sadness twinkling just behind them.

She sits down next to him and takes his hand.

“I’ve… It’s…” 

He’s never seen her lost for words before. There’s so much she wants to say to him but she’s suddenly uncertain, unsure of what should be said and what’s better left unspoken.

“It’s been fun.” She says at last and cracks a smile. “You take good care of yourself now.” 

She leans in and kisses him, but this time it’s harder, filled with the fire of all the words she can’t bring herself to say aloud. He responds, pulling her closer to him, head tilting backwards deepening the kiss. Her tongue explores his mouth, probing it, teasing him and he lets out a soft groan against her, pulling her down with him, both lying on the couch, her on top, straddling him, kissing like their lives depend on it. His mouth wanders over her chin and neck, planting kisses on her throat as she sighs, any distance between them all but gone.

She regains herself first, and brings a hand to his face, before pulling away slowly, soft eyes filled with longing fixed on his. She brushes his face and untangles her body from his. His eyes are asking the question, the question that was building between them for the last three months and now stands unanswered, hanging in the air.

“Take care Arthur.”

She leaves the room and is gone, the only remnant of what passed between them is the box on the table. He wants to follow but something holds him back.

His hands reach towards the box on their own accord and he opens it. Inside is a silenced .10mm that closely resembles her own favored side arm. This one is made of stainless steel with well worn wooden grips. The barrel is engraved, ‘Ad Victoriam’ curling itself around it spidery script. 

A small note sits inside.

“Salvation.”

***

“Elder Maxson? Paladin Danse is on the radio for you sir.”

Arthur makes his way to the bow of the ship where Lancer-Captain Kells is waiting with the radio.

“Yes Paladin?”

“Elder, the civilian who helped my team connect the transistor radio at ArcJet Systems? She’s decided to take me up on the offer and officially join the Brotherhood.”

Arthur feels his stomach drop, his hand instinctively reaches for the gun on his side, brushing the handle. 

“Good work Paladin. Based on your reports she’d make an excellent asset to the Brotherhood. Both of you are to report to the Prydwen immediately.”

“Yes sir. Ad victoriam, Elder.”

“Ad victoriam, Paladin.”

He walks back to the deck, hand resting on Salvation’s handle. 

***

Paladin Danse walks out of the radio room and makes his way over to her. She’s leaning against Haylen’s desk, readjusting the fit of her holster with the brotherhood uniform he issued her.

“You are about to get to know the Prydwen up close and personal. I’ve received orders that we are both to report to her immediately. Follow me up to the roof of the police station- we’re going for a little ride.”

“Yes, sir.” 

They make their way up to the roof, Danse’s footsteps echoing through the building.

This is the first vertibird she’s stepped on since before the war. There’s something about the buzzing of the motor and the cold wind of her face as they fly towards the Prydwen that almost makes her forget that two hundred years have passed. She can see Nate’s face as he heads of to another deployment. Her father’s face as he comes back. Her mother, in full ranger uniform, instructing cadets in using power armor. 

But that world, that world is gone. 

She fights the mixture of dread and doubt trying to amass in the pit of her stomach, slivers of uncertainty worming their way in and out, begging her to question her decision. Once aboard the Prydwen, Arthur, her Arthur, would become lost to her forever.

‘It’s the right thing to do Allie,’ her inner voice whispers but it only sounds half certain. 

Paladin Danse breaks her out of her reverie. They are flying over the crumbling Boston skyline, the sun illuminating the once proud skyscrapers of the business district. 

“It never ceases to amaze me how drastically your perception of the battlefield changes from the air. We’re going to need that edge when we take on the Institute.” He sighs, lost in thought for a moment. “They’ve already proven they are technologically superior which means there is no telling what types of weapons they have in their arsenal. Hopefully, our air superiority and tactical know how will make the difference. Now all we’ll have to do is find them and I’m betting that Elder Maxson will have a plan already in place by the time we arrive.”

Danse’s eyes wander over the land beneath them and she wonders how different it must all seem to him, to someone who never saw Boston at the height of its glory, whose only experience with life was in this desperate, irradiated wasteland.

“I wish everyone down there believed in our cause but they’ve been blinded by rumors and misinformation. They don’t realize that the Brotherhood of Steel is the Commonwealth’s last hope for survival. Every man, woman and child below is in mortal danger. If we fail, it’s only a matter of time before the enemy overwhelms the population. Cleansing the Commonwealth is our duty and I would gladly spill my own blood if it ensures our victory.”

He believes it, every word he says. And a growing part of her does too.

The Prydwen comes into view, a metal behemoth unsteadily navigating the uncertain gap between earth and sky. 

“All right soldier. This is the moment when everything changes. I hope you are ready.”

He doesn’t know how right he is.

Lancer Captain Kells meets them on the flight deck. His eyes tear into her, taking her apart and piecing her back together, relaying the reality of her with the information he read in Danse’s report.

“Is that our new recruit?”

“Yes sir. I field promoted her to initiate and I’d like to sponsor her entry into our rankings personally.”

“Yes, we’ve read your reports. You’ll be pleased to know that Elder Maxson’s approved your request and placed the recruit in your charge.”

“Thank you sir. And my current orders?”

“You’re to remain on the Prydwen and away further instructions.”

“Very good sir. Ad victoriam, Captain.”

“Ad victoriam, Paladin.”

Danse salutes and walks towards the common centre after giving her an encouraging nod. Kells continues his silent assessment and she stands to waiting for him to speak.

“So, you’re the one Paladin Danse has taken under his wing. You don’t look much like a soldier to me.”

“Looks can be deceiving.”

“Which is precisely why I personally insist on scrutinizing every recruit who boards this vessel. I’ve read Paladin Danse’s reports.” His lips curl lightly upwards. “He seems to think you’ll make a fine addition to the Brotherhood. You might expect an endorsement like that to grant you a great deal of latitude with us but let me make one thing clear. The Brotherhood of Steel has travelled to the Commonwealth with a specific goal in mind. As the Captain of this vessel I won’t allow anyone to jeopardize our mission no matter how valuable they think they are. Understood?”

“Yes, sir.”

“Your orders are to proceed to the Command desk for the address, after which Elder Maxson wishes to have a word with you. If you have any questions, ask me now. Otherwise, you’re dismissed.”

She salutes him and makes her way to the command deck. Danse is right, this is the moment when everything changes.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> \- Spoilers for "Shadow of Steel"  
> \- Thanks guys for the lovely comments- put a huge smile on my face :) Enjoy!

The air inside the command deck feels warmer, charged with the electricity of anticipation. A group of newly minted field scribes and initiates form a semi circle around Elder Maxson. He stands proud on the deck, hands laced behind his back, body straight, eyes taking in the room. 

And he is Elder Maxson now, standing to attention and owning the space he is in, the sheer force of his character enough to make the Prydwen herself feel smaller. 

Allie takes her place at the back of the room and stands to, noting the rapt attention he commands. This man, in the battle coat and the scars and the fire in his eyes is not the man she… He can’t be. And she, she is no longer that woman.

“Brothers and Sisters! The road behind has been long and fraught with difficulty.” He holds the eye of each of them for a second, letting the importance of his words sink in.

“Each and every one of you has surpassed my expectations by rapidly facilitating our arrival in the Commonwealth. You have accomplished this amazing feat without a hint of purpose or direction and most impressively, without question.”

The pride he feels for them, for the selfless men and women who followed him here through the tumultuous years of becoming Elder and bringing in the Outcasts, through the journey from the Capitol Wasteland to the Commonwealth, is in his voice and it fills the room like subtle smoke, worming itself into the hearts and minds of each soldier.

“Now that the ship is in position, it is time to reveal our purpose and our mission. Deep in the Commonwealth there is a cancer known as the Institute. They are experimenting with dangerous technologies that could prove to be the world’s undoing for the second time in recent history.”

His speech is active, animated, filled with equal amounts of urgency, passion and concern.

“The Institute scientists have created a weapon that transcends the destructive nature of the atom bomb. They call their creation the synth, a robotic abomination of technology that is free thinking and masquerades as a human being. The notion that a machine could be granted free will is not only offensive, but horribly dangerous. And, like the atom, if it isn’t harnessed properly, it has the potential of rendering us extinct as a species.”

He pauses, letting his words sink in.

“I am not prepared to allow the Institute to continue this line of experimentation. Therefore, the Institute and their synths are considered enemies of the Brotherhood of Steel and should be dealt with swiftly and mercilessly. “

His voice breaks, his eyes burning with fire.

“This campaign will be costly and many lives will be lost. But in the end, we will be saving humankind from its worst enemy… itself.”

“Ad victoriam.” He brings his right fist to his heart.

“Ad victoriam.” The room echoes back. 

One by one the others leave the Command deck. He stands with his back to her, his hands laced behind him, fingers intertwined, head set forward. 

“You wished to see me Elder?”

She stands beside him, shoulder to shoulder, at ease.

“Ah, Initiate. Paladin Danse speaks very highly of you. In the past few months you have become a great asset to our operations as testified by him and the Brotherhood soldiers you’ve aided on their mission.” 

He turns towards her, eyes meeting straight on for the first time. Both eye each other unblinking, blue eyes on blue, not cold but wary, alert. The calm before a storm.

“You’d be pleased to hear that Scribe Holden has made an almost full recovery. Knight Captain Cade expects to have him back to active duty in a few weeks.”

“I’m glad to hear that sir. I was doing what anyone else would.”

“You’ve proven your value in the field and that combined with the recommendation of one of my most respected field officers means that from this moment forward, I’m granting you the rank of Knight. And befitting your title, we’re granting you a suit of Power Armor to protect you in the field of battle. Wear it with pride.”

“Yes sir.”

“In any event, once you’ve finished becoming familiar with the Prydwen and my staff, report to the flight Deck for your new orders. Welcome aboard the Prydwen soldier, make us proud.”

“Ad victoriam, Elder.” She brings her right fist to her heart and for a single second, the shield between them drops and they look at each other with familiar, softened eyes. 

And then she turns and exists the command deck and the magic breaks.

***

He clocks her as soon as she enters the room, the anticipation of her arrival a dull, throbbing ache nestling in the pit of his stomach.

He’s delivered this speech too many times already, to groups of scribes and initiates, to knights and lancer-corporals as they are cleared for active duty and given their new assignments. It is impassioned yet practiced, the lilt and tone of his voice, the cadence and intonation the perfect combination of genuine and determined.

That’s the only thing that lets him keep it together, that lets his mind separate the person he’s spent some of the happiest hours of his life with from the Brotherhood of Steel soldier that now stands in front of him.

She is different now. Her hair pulled back into a high bun, her eyes set with the discipline of someone who’s pushed every other thought but the one in front of them aside. Her stance lacks the fluid playfulness he’s familiar with, her feet planted firmly on the ground, body standing to attention.

He’s not sure he can bring himself to meet her gaze, not yet, not until he absolutely has to.

“You wished to see me, Elder?” She says and his heart skips a beat.

He’s spoken to many under his command over the last few years and does the same now, relying on habit to get him through this moment, to push back the desire to pull her close, to hold her to him right here on this deck, to tell her how much he misses her. Instead, he gives her her orders, like she is just another one of his brothers and sisters in Steel. And now, now she is. She has to be. 

“Ad victoriam.” She says and the spell breaks, the illusion of control shattering around them and he is looking at her like he did in that different place, in a place so removed from the Prydwen that they could be whoever they wanted to be. Her own eyes have softened now, a light smile beginning to play on her lips before she grounds herself back into reality and he forces himself to do the same.

“Ad victoriam, Knight.” He whispers as she leaves, his hand brushing the shoulder holster that holds Salvation, close to his heart.

***

“There you are. How did it go with Elder Maxson?”

Danse waits for her in the mess hall. She doesn’t answer his question immediately, sitting down instead.

“What do you think of him sir?” She says instead. 

“He is a brilliant tactician, a formidable warrior and possesses an idealistic vision for the future of the Brotherhood. I’d follow him anywhere, without question. A decade ago, the Brotherhood had almost gone completely astray. The Elder before Maxson sent us down a path that was leading nowhere… he was more concerned about charity than the preservation of technology. But when Maxson took over, he single-handedly re-prioritized the Brotherhood from the ground up and put us back on the path to glory. This ship and its crew are a testament to his leadership.” 

She looks at him thoughtfully for a moment, formulating her own answer.

“He’s a very dedicated man. It sounds like he stands behind everything he’s saying.” 

Danse breathes a sigh of relief. A lot of new recruits didn’t understand the importance of unwavering loyalty towards the chain of command and he desperately needs her to. His own fate, is now tied to hers.

“Of course he does.” He says gruffly. “How can he afford not to? I just hope you appreciate how much of a chance I’m taking bringing you into the fold this quickly. Not to put too fine a point on it but if you screw up, we go down together.

“I won’t let you down Danse, I promise.” She says and he knows that she really means it. 

“Good. Now I know that you are eager to hop into a suit of power armor and take the fight to the Institute, but first things first. In order to be an effective part of the team, you need to learn your way around this ship and get to know its crew. Since I’ve been officially assigned to you as your sponsor, I’d recommend taking me along with you.”

She nods, glad for his company. 

It’s almost midnight before she makes it to her bunk with just enough time to get some sleep before she has to report to the Flight Deck. Enough time to try and not dream of him, with the blue eyes, enough time to remember why she is here.


	5. Chapter 5

She is back there, back in the world before the bombs. Before groups of raiders roam and ravish what is left of the land, just because they can. Before…

His face flashes in front of her. Nate. His brown eyes, rich and soft and as kind as the day she met him. Nate. More important than life itself and she let him down. She wasn't strong enough, fast enough to break out of that stupid pod… to get to him in time. It should have been her. She should have been the one holding Shaun and then…

‘And then what Allie? Then he’ll be here, trying to make his way through this dead world? He’ll be the one trying to find Shaun… trying to piece a life together… How do you think he’ll feel with his wife dead and his son lost? You’d not wish this on anyone. Especially not him.’

No. Of course she wouldn’t. It’s over a year since… or is it eleven? That first weeks were the hardest of her life. Mostly alone with Dogmeat, just trying to understand. Days filled with short recon missions, never straying too far from the Red Rocket where she’d found him. Sometimes she’d been too weak to get up and leave… too weak to go and look for food, to move, to think.

That’s when the raiders struck- two of them.

“Look what we have here?” One snickers, her hand reaching under Allie’s chin. “Almost dead meat already. Pretty head though- will look great on a spike. Don’t you think?” She spits, squeezing her chin.

She pulls out her machete and brings it to Allie’s throat and that’s when survival kicks in. Her instincts and training take over, pushing back the fog of depression.

She can’t quite recall what happened or how she managed it but a few minutes later the raiders lay dead.

She is alive. This… this ghost of a person, hiding in a gas station, abandoning her only child… this isn’t who she is. This isn’t the person Nate knew. 

‘I’m not weak.’ She whispers as she pulls herself up and drags the raider’s bloodied bodies outside. ‘I’m not weak. I will not fail you Nate. I will…’ And for the first time since she left the vault, she lets the tears wash over her.

***

“We are here Soldier,” Danse says softly as the vertiberd pulls up to the Prydwen, waking her from the dream.

She gets up rigidly and has to steady herself on Danse as a sharp pain hits her head. Stupid hound. Both are still covered in blood from the fight at Fort Strong, the left arm of Danse’s power armor, tied to him while her helmet drips green from the mutant hound that tried to chew her head off. A pretty picture they make, as they stumble towards the infirmary.

“Right, lets get you two out of that metal so I can assess the damage.”

She opens the back and stumbles, one of Cade’s assistants catches her mid fall and guides her to a free bunk. Dance exits his armor with a bit more grace though he collapses on the bunk face forward as soon as he is close enough to it.

The next few hours are a blur as she drifts in and out of consciousness, finally feeling safe enough to relax.

When she finally wakes up it’s almost 4 am and Danse is fast asleep on the bunk next to her, his arm bandaged, his face free from blood, snoring lightly. Cade is slumped in his chair, asleep. The infirmary feels unusually empty, with only herself, Danse and a scribe she doesn’t recognize kept overnight. 

Her stomach growls loudly reminding her that the last meal she had was before the flight to Fort Strong. She swings her legs off the bed and gets up slowly then makes her way to mess. It’s mostly empty with only a few scribes who’d stayed up too late transcribing technical documents for Proctor Quinlan or inventorying the Nukes.

A pot of porridge-like gruel is simmering on the stove, behind the bar. She helps herself to a large bowl.

“Good work on fort Strong Knight.” Proctor Teagan is standing beside her, bags under his eyes. He looks like he’s only just left the armory.

“Thank you Proctor.”

“What is it today then?” He says nodding towards the pot.

“I’m not entire sure yet. Can I get you some?”

He looks at her bowl and smiles slyly.

“How about you go first Knight? I’m incredibly important to the Brotherhood. Can’t have me dying with food poisoning now, can we? I don’t think anyone else can survive the monotony of standing in an armored box all day.”

“Yes sir.” She smiles, digging her spoon in. The gruel is salty but warm and filling and she finishes it quickly. 

“Well, you are still standing. I suppose that’s as good a sign as any.”

“Were the nukes in good condition?” She asks between mouthfuls of her second helping.

“As good as any. The supernatants didn’t do any damage though I’m not sure they’d know where to start.”

They finish the rest of their breakfast in silence.

“Well, seeing that not all of us can have a good night at the infirmary, I’m off to catch an hour. If anyone asks, you’ve not seen me.” 

When she returns to the infirmary Cade is up, changing Danse’s bandages.

“Ah, Knight. Have a seat and let me have a final look at you- once you are cleared for duty Elder Maxson would like your report.”

***

Arthur is sitting on the couch, crosslegged, reading through Teagan’s inventory report. His scribes have been up for most of the night, moving the nukes to the Prydwen. He expects they’ll need another full day.

There’s a knock on his door.

“Come in,” he says stifling a yawn. It’s almost 6am now and he hasn’t managed to go to bed yet. 

“Elder Maxson,” she salutes then closes the door behind her. “You asked to see me?”

“At ease Knight.” She looks much better than when she’d stumbled out of the vertiberd yesterday, using Danse for support, deep scratches running down one side of her power armor. He nods towards the chair near him and she takes it.

Her report on Fort Strong is brief and to the point, commending the skill of the pilot and Paladin Danse’s exceptional accuracy.

“Thank you Knight, that will be all. See Captain Kells for your new orders. Dismissed.”

She gets up, salutes him and turns to leave the room as if the entire interaction was completely normal. As if the only thing he was to her was the Elder of the Brotherhood of Steel, her commanding officer. As if nothing else had ever passed between them.

“Allie.” He says softly, his voice breaking. He needs her to look at him- the Arthur him- just once more time. He needs to know he didn’t imagine…

She turns and her eyes are filled with sadness. He stands up and she takes a step towards him, the only thing between them the chair she’d occupied moments earlier. Her hand reaches forward, with a will on its own, and rests on his face. They stay like that for a moment, eyes locked on each other before she whispers “Ad victoriam” and leaves the room.

***

It takes all she’s got to leave that room, to leave him behind, standing there wide eyed. To not pull him close and kiss his lips and hold him. To feel the heat of his body against hers, the familiar touch enough to make everything better. But he is not hers, not anymore.

‘He was never yours.’ The inner voice whispers, taunting. ‘That thing you were playing at, it had a shelf life. It wasn’t real. You let it go on for too long and now, you’ve only got yourself to blame.’

She shrugs it off, the thoughts, the sadness, the longing for his touch and sets of towards the Command Deck and Captain Kells.


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Spoilers for "Duty or Dishonor"  
> Light spoilers for the end of "Reunions."
> 
> Thanks for reading guys! Love hearing your thoughts on this :)

She is standing on the prow of the Prydwen, bottle of Whiskey in hand, blanket wrapped tightly around her. It’s one of the few places she can be alone… alone to be… alone to think. Her mind replays this afternoon’s events, over and over again.

Initiate Clark stands there, feral ghouls locked in a room beneath him, looking at them like a benevolent benefactor. It’s a while before he even notices her.

“I had a friend who was a ghoul once as human as you or me.” he says, half to himself. “But the Brotherhood, the Brotherhood says ghouls are abominations. That they all deserve to die. Would you kill him too? Just because of who he is?”

”Was he a feral?” she asks.

“What difference does it make? Weren’t they all human once?” His voice is raised, his cheeks flushed.

“I joined the Brotherhood two years ago. In all that time, I never doubted our beliefs, never questioned them… And then in the battle for the Airport… The Ghouls… They just kept coming. I killed… I don’t even know how many. They started running away but we…we kept going. I killed them. I killed them all.” His body is shaking from the feelings he’s kept confined for so long. 

“Kid” she says softly “You did what you had to do.” 

And the words, while true, feel false, like they are not enough, like there is something else she should be able to say to him.

He waves her off, her useless words crumpling on the floor like the garbage that they are.

“We could have stopped. We could have just driven them off… we didn’t have to slaughter them.” He takes a breath before continuing “After the battle I… I needed some time to think. I found this place. And the ghouls… What could I do? Report it and they’d all be killed. Ignore them and they’d attack the base. I thought if I brought them food may be they’d just stay down here. There wouldn’t be any more killing.” His eyes are feverish, with anguish, with despair. “Do you… Do you think I did the right thing?” He looks at her for answers, for the answers he hasn’t been able to find over these last few months. 

“Do you?” she says.

“I don’t know anymore.”

The facade collapses for a moment, his shoulders slump and then

“What are you going to do with them?”

“They are a threat to the base. They have to be destroyed.”

He is standing straight again, fire burning in his eyes, fists clenched.

“No! No! I won’t just stand by and let you kill them. Not again!”

She looks at him, the feverish eyes, the doubt, the pain. People aren’t meant for this much killing, for this much blood. She hands over Knight Rylan's holotags and he takes them body beginning to shake again.

“And…what about me?”

“You should turn yourself in.”

It’s the right thing to do. It has to be.

“I suppose so. The Captain will never understand but it’s the honorable thing to do. He might respect that, at least.”

She goes over it, trying to look for a better way to handle the situation but she can’t see one and so she takes another drink of whiskey and pulls the blanket closer around her.

The door opens behind her and she turns around to see Danse standing there, back in his uniform, fully recovered.

“Teagan mentioned he saw you heading up this way.”

“How are you doing? Everything better?”

“Yeah, all systems functioning properly.” He cracks a rare smile. “ I heard about what happened with Initiate Clarke. I thought you could use…” He leaves it blank, hanging in the air between them. Use what? A friend? A drink? A shotgun pointed at her head?

She nods and offers him the bottle.

“You handled it exceptionally well.” He says after a while.

“And what good does that do?” She says bitterly, taking another swig, the feelings that had been building up all evening fighting to break free. “What good does it do to him? Or to Knight Rylan? Or all the other soldiers dealing with so much death? He had no idea how to handle it Danse. No fucking idea. He just broke. And there was no one there to pick him up. There should have been. Someone should have fucking been there.”

“It… It can’t be avoided sometimes,” he says. 

“How can you say that?” She growls, fire mixed with the drink getting the better of her practiced composure. “How can you stand here and look at me and say shit like that!? They aren’t machines! They are fucking people. And no person should have to deal with this much suffering… with this much death. This whole world is wrong. It’s fucking wrong and I don’t know what the hell to do about it.”

He simply wraps his arms around her and holds her close for a while.

“It just…I know it was the right thing to do but it… it hurts. It hurts that it is. It hurts that there isn’t a better solution right now, not one that I can see. It hurts that I can’t wave a magic wand and make it all disappear.”

“You can’t think about it like that Allie” He says. “One person isn’t going to fix this. It’s impossible. No matter how brilliant they are… no matter how much they might want to or how noble their intentions are. What took years to destroy will take years to repair. That’s why we do it together. As Brothers and Sisters in Steel. Doing our best to preserve what’s left of mankind even if that’s not how they see it sometimes.”

They stand in silence, watching the moon rise and cast its waning light on the Commonwealth.

“Can I ask you something?” he says after some time.

“Of course.”

“What made you decide to join?”

“Off the record?” she smiles wanly, a light dig at his favorite way to open up.

“Off the record.”

“I…When the Prydwen came in I was alone, standing on top of Fort Hagen… a place that had once been like a second home to me. I’d just… I’d just killed the man who murdered my husband. I thought I’d feel relief, a release of sorts but I just felt empty. Empty and manipulated. Like I was a pawn in a chess game so large I couldn’t even see the board.” She sighs deeply and pauses for a second searching for words.

“The Institute kidnapped my baby, murdered my husband and left everyone else in that vault to suffocate. Innocent people who’d done nothing more than just live were left to die for no good reason. They weren’t even given a fighting chance.”

“In that moment when nothing seemed to matter anymore, the Prydwen felt like hope.”

Something flickers in Danse’s eyes.

“How far was this Fort exactly?”

“A fair bit, why?”

“It did take you almost four months to make it to the Cambridge Police station.”


	7. Chapter 7

Arthur falls back on the couch and the absence of her fills the room, like it always does these days.

It’s been four weeks. Four weeks since they were together in that other place, where none of this mattered. Where he could forget for a few hours, at the cost a couple of bottles of bourbon, that the future of every man and woman under his command rests squarely on his shoulders. Where his every decision isn’t life or death. A luxury he doesn’t have on the Prydwen. A luxury the Brotherhood can’t afford.

He isn’t sure how he ended up there, in the heart of a place that shouldn’t exist. Where an Assaultron runs a gun store store and the mayor’s a ghoul. A place wrong and fantastical all at once.

“It was necessary.” He tells himself. “Strategic.” His thoughts take him back.

He’s flying over with a small recon vertibird, observing the Commonwealth when he sees a man and a woman creep towards a majestic old building, still intact, two Supermutants trying to break their way in. He watches as the woman pulls a gun out and shoots them both, cleanly, clinically, like they are a mere obstacle to get around before picking the lock and going inside. The man follows, rifle at the ready. 

Curious, Arthur motions the vertibird to land on the roof. Something about the pair triggers a memory from the reports, the yellowing trench coat, the hat, the sunglasses and sniper rifle across her back. This is the mercenary from Paladin Danse’s report. 

He motions the knight that accompanies him to stand watch and slips inside the library through the skylight, rifle in hand. He watches the two figures through his scope as they move silently, killing the mutties one by one, his rifle shadowing one then the other in case they need sudden aid. 

The pair make short work of the mutants, moving as one, a well oiled machine. Once done she re-programs the remaining protections to protect against intruders and they leave. Simple. Clean. Unsettling.

He stands transfixed a few moments longer before lowering his weapon.

His mind flashes to a few weeks later when he finds himself entering Goodneighbour in search of her for the fourth time. This is the week he stops this foolishness. The week he recruits her. 

He can’t afford to be seen here in… in this place… with these…these… these people. 

People Lyons would have tried to help.

Lyons.

Mixed emotions fight through him, violently scrapping for control.

Fuck. Fuck Lyons. He died. He died and left me to deal with this mess. And no matter what I try and do people always die and grumble and die. So many dead. And nothing I do changes it. And Sarah…And…

“And what did you do Arthur? As soon as my body was cold? You brought in the Outcasts.” He hears his voice. He always hears his damn voice at the back of his mind, telling him he is doing everything wrong, like a vengeful ghost that will not be ignored. “You betrayed me Arthur. You went against everything I stood for. Everything we stood for. Son.”

“I didn’t betray you.” He wants to shout back at the void. “ I did what had to be done. Divided, we were weak. I would have lost them- all of them.”

“You got scared you weak little boy.” And now the voice is that of his mother. The mother who’d sent him out to the middle of god-damn nowhere because he was too soft. Too weak to be a leader. To be a Maxson. “And you are still weak now. Writer-boy. Your make believe stories of peace and plenty each more ridiculous than the last. Soft. Weak. A disappointment.” 

The monster throws its many heads back, laughing, screaming, wearing all their faces. His father, the brave dead paladin. His Mother. Lyons. Sarah. Casdin. Countless others, their faces all sharp edges and teeth and anger. And there among them, hers.

Allie.

Her face contorted, angry, eyes burning red. 

“Weak.” She laughs, a sharp high pitched cackle completely different from the warm, deep rumble of her real laugh.”Weak and pitiful. You can’t help people, Arthur. You can’t even help yourself. And everyone knows it.”

His eyes snap open as harmless fantasy turns into the recurring nightmare that haunts his dreams. He gets up, shrugs his coat on and heads up for some air.

He climbs to the highest part of the Prydwen, the observation deck that’s abandoned at this hour, and opens the door. He unlocks the supply chest and pulls out the bottle of Whiskey he’d stashed there a few days ago.

There it is. The Commonwealth. The chance at a new start. If he squints hard enough it’s almost possible to forget the bombs, to transport himself to a time he’d only read about in books. He is lost in thought when the door open behind him and Allie walks in.

Her face flushes slightly when she sees him.

“Sorry Elder, I’ll…” She starts moving backwards.

“No, stay.” It comes out like an order, barked and short. She hesitates and his face softens and he offers her the bottle.

She nods and approaches him slowly, cautiously. The last time they were alone they almost broke the unspoken agreement that fell into place night she handed him Salvation. Brotherhood first. And these uncharted waters are making her uneasy.

She takes the bottle and takes a long drink before offering it back.

They stand in silence for a few minutes.

“Sir?”

“What is it Hughes?” He settles on her last name, it lacks the painful familiarity of the first or the gravity of her rank. A middle ground.

“The squires…” She pauses formulating the rest of her question. “ They usually have a few free hours in the evenings but not much to do on board. What about chess?”

“Chess?” 

“It’s a great way to teach them tactics out of the field. It encourages a different way of thinking, of seeing the whole as well as the parts.” She hesitates, waiting for a reaction but he offers none. “Of focusing on the band of raiders around you as well as the one trying to stick a knife in your side. A different perspective of the battle field.”

He is caught off guard. Chess. 

“Why don’t you speak to Proctor Quinlan?” He says finally. “He loves the game, he’ll probably have a few sets lying around.”

“I will.” She smiles, a big, genuine smile that reaches all the way up to her eyes, that makes his knees go weak. “Thank you.” 

“Are you any good?” He asks, desperately wanting to keep her talking, to somehow find a way to stand closer on this bridge that extends between them. 

“I’ve had some practice.” She grins and takes another drink. “ Unbeaten chess champion at my old school and then at college… You play?”

“I used to. There was a squire back in the Citadel, very good at the game. She taught me on Elder Lyon’s instructions. Of course, back then I was far more interested in shooting a laser rifle than moving pieces on the board…”

He launches into the details and they discuss tactics, favorite strategies, pieces.

“I used to be terrible for the longest time.” She chuckles. “My dad was beginning to lose hope. I think I was about 8 or 9 at the time… He used to say ‘Allie, you have to focus on the whole’ and I’d try but every time he took one of my pawns I’d get so angry I’d start chasing the piece responsible around the board. It didn't matter if it left my king exposed, I’d chase it until it was mine.” She laughs again, a soft comforting sound that reverberates through the air around them “Of course by this point I’d lost all the other pieces. I had a lot of anger back then.”

“And now?”

“And now I try to focus on the whole. But damn if it isn’t as hard as it was back then.”

They talk softly for a while longer, until the amber liquid is gone.


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> \- I suppose there are spoilers for your third talk with Danse :) I've changed the dialogue a little to make it fit the story and to keep it interesting.
> 
> As always, thanks for reading guys- it makes me happy. Your thoughts make me happy too!

The change comes rapidly, a sea of green crashing across the landscape, seeking to embrace everything in sight. Lightning playfully flickers across the growing darkness, wordlessly informing them of things to come.

“We need to find cover and quick.” She half hears Danse mouth through the wind, his words dispersed before they have a chance to fully form.

She nods, the helmet of her power armor barely responding to the movement. She hates the restrictiveness, the way it makes her feel like she is permanently underwater. 

“We passed that shack about ten minutes ago,” she shouts at the wind in vain. “We should go back there.”

She doesn’t wait for his response, just moves one leg and then the other, still trying to pay some level of attention to the surroundings, the wind threatening to blow both of them away, straight into the gaping mouth of the Glowing Sea. Everything else is hiding too, not stupid enough to be out, especially now, so close to the place where no sane creature has gone to and returned. 

The shack nestles in the back of a hill, half dug in, long abandoned by its original occupants. It’s a single room, walls and roof mostly intact, a half eaten mattress and a few scattered chairs the only thing scavvers haven’t dragged away. Dance shoulders the door shut and she drags the mattress against it, sealing the gaping hole at the bottom.

“Just in time.” She announces, all matter of fact, before she breaks into a relieved smile and steps out of her power armor.

“We cut it too close.” Danse shakes his head. “It was a lapse in judgment to keep going.”

“It came out of nowhere.” She stretches her arms above her head, until she hears the satisfactory click of her right shoulder, back where it belongs. “You can’t predict every eventuality.”

“And if we’d been caught in it?”

“I’d have left you to the death claws.” She unrolls her bedroll and sits down, crosslegged, her pack in her lap. 

Danse shakes his head but doesn’t say anything. Instead he steps out of his own set of armor and after making sure that everything is still working properly, sits down across from her, right shoulder to the door, readied rifle by his side.

“You have any idea where in the glowing sea this Virgil is?” He ventures, as she pulls out a couple of radstag pies and hands him one.

“Nope.” She sighs heavily. “Not a fucking clue,” a pause and then “You know you don’t have to…” She leaves the sentence unfinished and it hangs there in the air between them.  
“Where you go, I go.” He says firmly, indignance dancing at the tip of his tongue. Like he’d let her go on this suicide… on this mission alone. Like she had any right suggesting it. Like…

“You know I didn’t mean it like that Danse” she sighs, pie still in her hand, eyes filled with something he doesn’t recognize. “But it’s the Glowing Sea, not a trip to a muttie nest. I have no idea where I’m going or what I’m looking for or…” the pie rolls out of her hand and onto the floor. “or what I’ll do when I find it.”

“Still won’t be the worst assignment I’ve ever had,” he chuckles humorlessly. 

“Oh yeah?”

“Yeah. I’ll have to tell you about it after… if it’s still true that is.” An almost smile flickers across his face, lower lip curling upwards despite the reluctance of the rest of his facial muscles to exert themselves in such a manner. 

“I’ll hold you to it.” She grins, eyes twinkling, the momentary uncertainty pushed back to the recesses of her mind where it could be ignored, at least for now.

“Can I ask you something?” He ventures after a while as the crashing of thunder interrupts the silence that stretches between them.

“What’s wrong?” Wrong. She has a knack for picking up his emotions before he can fully recognize them.

“Nothing’s wrong… It’s just…” He falters and looks away from her unblinking eyes, now fixed on his face. “I know this may sound like a strange question but…what do you think about Scribe Haylen?”

Allie’s brow knots slightly, her eyebrows shoot up. “Scribe Haylen? Is everything ok? Is she…?”

“No, not at all. Haylen’s doing quite well.” He takes a deeper breath, clasping then unclasping his hands. “I simply wanted to talk to you about her but… but I wanted to know what you thought of her first.”

Her face relaxes and she eyes him curiously. He is tense, beads of sweat forming on his brow, his shoulders stiff, screaming of discomfort.

“Haylen is loyal, honorable… dedicated. She is a good…” What is he looking for? Good scribe? Good woman?

“I couldn’t agree more” he says, voice half pride, half something else. “But I wasn’t looking for an evaluation of her performance as a scribe. I wanted to know what you thought about Haylen… as a person.”

“I like her a lot. She is compassionate, kind… It’s difficult to remain like that out in the field. She fights for every life like her own hangs in the balance. It’s how a medic should be.”

He opens his mouth, then closes it, the words he is trying to say trapped in the nether between here and there.

“What’s bothering you Danse?”

“I… I just don’t normally find these discussions easy to handle, so I try to avoid them at all costs.“ His breathing quickens, color floods to his cheeks. “The truth is…I’m worried about her. Since you and I are getting along so well… well, I felt like I could confide in you about it… to get your honest opinion. I thought I’d do it now incase you know… you decide the Glowing sea is too good to leave.” The joke feels hollow, an attempt at humor that cuts too close to home. 

“I’m here for you, whatever you need.” She leans forward and takes his hand in hers, squeezing it lightly. He draws a ragged breath and presses onwards.

“A few months before you found us, one of my men was shot multiple times by Raiders. Haylen stayed by that Knight’s side for two days straight without sleep fighting to keep him alive…” Memories flood his mind, pushing and shoving against each other. Warwick’s face is there, contorted with agony, his throat too weak to scream from the pain. Haylen’s pale face, gray bags under her tear shod eyes… Danse recalls her voice as she speaks to him softly, emanating quiet bravery from every pore. “…but he was on a slow decline. I decided that his suffering needed to end and ordered Haylen to administer an overdose of painkillers so he could die with dignity.” Haylen's eyes, wide with surprise as she’d nodded and gone to prepare the dosage. Her mouth set with determination, her hands always steady, always… “Even though I’m certain she wanted to continue fighting for that Knight’s life, she injected him without question.”

Danse pauses, ragged breath in then out, in then out, in… eyes half closed, he is lost in that moment all over again.

“That soldier was gravely wounded.” He continues, fresh determination filling every word. “Even if by some miracle he happened to survive, he would have been paralyzed for life.” The unspoken implications hang in the air between them. “But the decision whether to ease that soldier’s suffering isn’t the point here. The point is what happened later that same evening.”

The wind and rain pound mercilessly against shack’s wall and Allie shuffles closer towards him, the gap between them closing. 

“Haylen approached me while I was on watch. She didn’t say a word but I could tell something was wrong. After what felt like an eternity, she collapsed into my arms, crying. I… I didn’t know what to do so I just held her for a while. A few minutes later she stopped, kissed me on the cheek and simply said ‘Thank you’ before heading back into the police station.” His hand rests on his cheek, eyes lost in that moment and his face flushes again, reminded of his incompetence to deal with the situation, of his uncertainty. 

“Right then it hit me… Maybe I pushed her too hard. I ordered her to ignore her instincts. To do something her medical training told her was wrong.” I ordered her to kill a man, he thinks, but doesn’t say it. Saying it will make it real… more real… and… he doesn’t finish that thought. “That’s why I’m worried about her… and for that matter everyone under my command.” The anger, the frustration permeate his words now, drenching them.

“Danse…” Allie squeezes his hand, her eyes full of worry and friendship and… And he looks away. 

“Look… Four soldiers, over half my team… are gone. Each one of them died because of decisions that I made. I understand the risks that come with the job, we all do. But how can anyone have confidence in me anymore? Hell, how can I have confidence in myself?”

His eyes find hers, wide and questioning and full of hurt. Full of all the doubt he never lets himself feel. Him, a merchant boy from Rivet City, abandoned by everyone that should have mattered. A fraud, leading others to their deaths. A…

Allie interlaces her fingers with his, grip light yet firm and her other hand reaches up to brush his cheek. Her eyes are soft and kind and full of all the things that he doesn’t deserve to see there. Warmth and faith and…

“I believe in you.” She says and means it. “You are one of the best, most capable, selfless people that I’ve ever met. You did everything you could.” His gaze threatens to drop and she shakes her head. “You did, Danse. I know it doesn’t feel that way but you did. And,” she lets her hand drop, lips curling up into a playful smile, “you should always trust my opinion. I’m the oldest bloody person you know, smartest too I bet.”

The tension dissipates.

“Actually it does.” He chuckles, the dark clouds parting. “Well, it looks like things have taken a turn. I signed up to be your sponsor, so I teach you everything I know but it looks like I’m the one that needed the lesson today.”

“Anytime.” 

“All joking aside, I’m pleased that we had this discussion and…And that with all the problems you’re facing, you still took the time to listen. It’s comforting to know that I can speak to you as a… that I can speak to you as a friend.”

“Friend?” She says, frowning. “Is that what we are now Paladin, friends?” Before he can say anything her smile is back and it reaches all the way to her eyes and into his soul. “Yeah, I suppose we are. I’ve got your back Danse. Always.”

“And I’ve got yours.” He chuckles awkwardly, breaking away from her gaze. “Anyway thanks for letting me get that off my shoulders. I think it’s been weighing on me more than I realized. I’m only sorry you had to see me at my worst instead of at my best.”


	9. Chapter 9

“And now what?” Danse says as the vertibird lands on a rooftop across from Diamond City.

“Now we resupply.” 

Allie jumps off the roof and onto the street. The noise from her landing makes one of the security guards to turn, shotgun at the ready.

“Just me Robbie, don’t worry.” 

“Ma’am. That’s quite an entrance you made.” He says lowering his weapon.

“Too old for them steps. How’s your aunt?”

“Much better.” He smiles gratefully. “That tonic really helped. You heading in? You should stop by and see her- she’d love that.”

They head in, past the stands and the market until Allie comes to a stop in front of a large house and pulls out a key.

“Make yourself at home.” She turns a switch on and the place springs to life, a song hums away on the jukebox and Allie exits her power armor before collapsing on the couch.

“Is this… you… you live here?” Danse takes the place in. It’s surprisingly homely, all low hanging lights, and soft furniture with blankets casually thrown on the backs of chairs.

“Yeah… sometimes. Good to have a place to crash, resupply, fix that power armor… but lets do that tomorrow.” She stretches luxuriously on the couch. “There’s a bed upstairs, and water and… things. You can find things. Just throw me that blanket will you?” She points to a knitted red throw that sits on the chair next to him. “Make yourself at home Danse.” She manages to say through a series of yawns before she rolls over and falls asleep.

He’d been anxious about her decision to come to Diamond City instead of going to the Prydwen. He knew she didn’t want to waste time but they needed to regroup after The Sea. Two weeks. Visibility so poor you could barely see an inch in front of you. The barren wasteland filled with creatures that shouldn’t draw breath, stumbling from shack to shack, breath ragged, doing everything they could to just stay alive.

At one point he thought the air purifier in his armor was about to fail him, a choking sensation hitting him straight in the chest, threatening to paint the world black. At another, a raging storm kept them confined to an abandoned Red Rocket station for two days, huddled against the irradiated winds and the monsters that lurked outside, the swishing and clicking sound of rad scorpion tails as they patrolled their home, looking for a way to destroy the invaders.

Virgil’s cave was the tenth such they’d explored. It looked no different on the outside, no giant fluorescent sign beckoning them in. They stumbled in to see protections patrolling the entrance.

“Wait here” She’d motioned him to stay and moved forward not taking care to muffle her echoing footsteps.

“Who’s there?” A male voice said from the cave’s innards.

“I’m looking for Dr Brian Virgil.”

“Are you here to kill me?”

“No, I’m here to ask for your help.”

“My help?” Danse recalls the incredulity in his voice and his sudden need to laugh. She is asking a man stuck in the middle of the irradiated wasteland for help. A man who can’t ever leave this cave. And it’s taken them two weeks to find him and… And they have to make it back.

He doesn’t hear the rest of their conversation, doesn’t see Virgil’s face. He just stands guard by the door, watching for any sign of attack from the outside or the inside and tries to keep the panicked laughter at bay.

They’d tracked back to the edge of the Glowing Sea when she used one of the vertibird grenades to signal their location and most of the journey to Diamond city was spent in silence. He doesn’t know what happened in there. If she got the answers she needs. If they are closer to getting to the Institute or if this entire foray had been a fools errand.

The uncertainty sets his teeth on edge and there is nothing left to do but rest. Rest. He stumbles out of his power armor and towards the bed. He is asleep before his head hits the pillow.

***

Danse is still sleeping when she wakes, the soft sound of his snoring drifting down the stairs. She pushes herself up to a sitting position, the events of the last few weeks still a blur. Her stomach growls loudly and Allie realizes that she doesn’t remember the last time she ate. The smell of unwashed flesh, of radiation burns and unhealed scrapes hits her and she grudgingly rolls off the couch, grabs and towel and heads towards the make-shift bathroom. 

She heats up a large pot of water and proceeds to scrub down the layers of grime and dirt and blood , applying a selection of poultices and bandages to prevent infection and to help with the healing. 

“Allie?” Danse is awake and there is a pang of uncertainty in his voice.

“Just making sure all the bits of me are still where they should be.” She calls from the bathroom. When she emerges a few minutes later, hair wrapped up in a towel, Dance is laying food on the table.

“You read my mind.”

They eat in silence, exhaustion still working its way through both of them. After eating, Danse heads off to the washroom and Allie begins working on her power armor, administering the necessary repairs.

“Are you going to tell me what happened?” Danse says finally, after a day of mending and fixing and silence.

“We… We need to find a courser chip.”

“Courser?” The word is both new and strangely familiar.

“A third gen synth, made solely for the purpose of reclaiming escaped synths. A killing machine of extreme proportions.” She looks at him, the same searching look she’d given him the day they headed into the Glowing Sea. “They say one courser can take down a whole band of raiders.”

“One Brotherhood Palladin can do the same” Danse shrugs, keeping his voice as level as possible. “And we weren’t grown in a lab. What does this courser chip do?”

“It will help me tap into the relay the coursers use to transport in and out of the Institute. The readings Haylen picked up? Those were coursers teleporting in and out.”

“Teleportation.” Danse whistles. “I heard the some of Quinlan’s more fanciful theories but… Well, explains why we can’t find them, doesn’t it? So where do we find ourselves a courser?”

***

Sturges thumbs the courser chip, passing it from one hand to the other. 

“Give me time and materials and I can build you anything but decoding this… I…” He sighs, tired eyes filling with disappointment. “I’m sorry Allie, but there’s nothing I can do with this.”

“Thanks Sturges.”

“What about Ingram?” Danse says when they are back at Red Rocket.

“She is an engineer Danse. This… I need…”And then it hits her. “There is someone who might be able to help but I need to go alone.”

Danse gives her a long searching look then nods.

“You’ve never given me a reason to doubt you but… be careful.”

A few hours later Allie slips into the Railroad’s HQ, a shadow blending into the world around it. Greaser leathers, a gray cap on her head, a cowl obscuring the rest of her face, her pip boy hidden away in the depths of the sack slung on her back.

“Desdemona.” She drawls, voice imitating the Irish lilt that used to be so prevalent in the streets of Boston. 

“Whispers.”

“Randall house is still in hiding.” Allie pulls out a holotype and hands it to her. “I cleared the area near University Point but couldna’ find any more clues.”

“Good job Agent.”

“Is Tom about? Got a little somethin’ somethin’ for ‘im.”

Tom is by the chem table, some new conception spread around him in a variety of bubbling jars.

“Don’t say I never get you anything now” she chuckles and presses the chip in his hand.

“Is that…” Tom’s mouth drops open.

“A gift, yeah. Can you do anything with it?”

“I… yes! Information! It must have information. About who they are. What they do. What they plan. Yesssss.”

“And you can get me a copy?” She says, her lips barely moving, her face turned towards him so only he can see it. On the down low, her eyes whisper.

He types away, fingers hitting the keyboards almost rhythmically, wild eyes darting this way then that, managing to pay attention to the meticulous nature of what he does while seemingly being everywhere. Tom gives that vibe- that he is in multiple places at once, suspended somewhere in space and time, neither here nor there.

“What’s going on?” Desdemona asks, approaching them.

“Whisp here got us a courser chip! A courser chip! I can’t even begin to believe it.” he continues trying to crack the code, curse words slipping out every now and then.

Allie sees the questions in Desdemona’s eyes. The hows. The why’s. But she doesn’t voice them, the agreement between them that it’s better for everyone involved to not know the details. Details killed in the Railroad. Everyone was someone else, someone other than who they were on the surface and so their surface identities were treated as distinct others, as knowledge that belonged to the person that held it.

“The courser was alone, chasing an escaped synth girl the Gunners had captured.” Allie offers, the bare minimum, an attempt to ease Desdemona’s mind. “She’s fine and on her way out of the Commonwealth.”

“Good.”

A tense silence falls between them as Tom continues pounding the keyboard until, “Got it.” he exclaims, and a sigh sweeps the room.

Later that night Tom presses a copy into her hand. 

***

Sturges is sitting crosslegged on the ground, back pressed against the cool walls of his workshop, a sliver of smoke drifting from his parted lips. His brows furrow, eyes shifting from one page then another.

“Can you do it?”

Allie is sitting next to him, a bottle of bourbon filling the small gap between them.

“I think so…”

“Sturges.” Her voice is a plea.

“Yes.” He says, shoulders squared back. “I can do it.”


	10. Chapter 10

She knocks on Elder Maxson’s door. The moment her knuckles touch the wood she wishes she could take it back. She shouldn’t be here.

“Come in.” His voice comes in from the other side. 

She hesitates for a moment then pushes the door open.

“What is it Knight?”

The words hang in the air between them, a world of steel and ranks and titles, of discipline and right and wrong keeping them apart. Apart like they should be. Like…

“Arthur.”

The name, uttered in a moment of weakness, an emotion that has no place here with them, tears through the barrier, through the unspoken promises and then he is beside her, pulling her against him. They stand there, wrapped in each others arms, as close together as their bodies would allow. Neither speaks, afraid that it would bring reality crashing down around them.

He is the first to break contact and sees her eyes, wide and red, fighting to steel themselves against this.

“What’s wrong Allie?” His voice is soft, concerned and it doesn’t belong here. 

She wants to tell him about the Glowing Sea and the device Sturges built. About how close she is to finding the Institute… how close she is to not coming back if the gamble doesn’t work. But that, that is Knight Hughes’s task. The person that actually belongs here. She should pull herself away and salute him and update him on her mission then leave. She should not pull him closer, not dig into why for over three months he’d never…

“Were you ever going to tell me who you were?” The words tumble out and she can’t put them back. She broke the unspoken agreement, broke the only thing that made this relationship possible. To pretend that Hughes and Maxson, Allie and Arthur were different people and now she’d made them crash into each other.

He looks at her and it is Arthur’s eyes turning an even deeper shade of blue. Arthur’s eyes that are filled with…

“Every time.” He says and his hand comes to rest on her face, callused fingers brushing against her skin. “And then I’d see you and the words… The words just wouldn’t come out.” He sighs and closes his eyes for a moment. “When did you…”

“As soon as I saw you.” She says and it is mostly true. He’d seemed familiar, like she’d always known that face, those eyes. It wasn’t until a few hours later that it had really hit her. “There was a drawing in the Cambridge police station… Seems Quinlan had asked one of the scribes to do a few drawings for the biography,” she smiles lightly. “And the way you walk into a room, it gives you away.”

“And you knew why I was there?”

“I suspected.”

He feels like he is falling. Like he wants to ask the questions that have been burning inside him, etching themselves in the back of his mind with a painful precision. 

He takes a step back but she closes the gap between them and then her lips are on his and nothing else matters but this moment. 

“I just wanted something that was mine.” She says, voice heavy, breath short, when they eventually pull apart. “I wanted to feel again… Not the pain of loss, not the burning for revenge… For a few short hours I just wanted to be… No higher purpose, no calling…no…” The name almost slips out but she stops herself. No Shaun. The nightmares of what the Institute had done to him, of what they could still be doing to him were getting worse. And it was all her fault. If they’d all died… if none of this had happened…

“Allie…”

She realizes she is crying, tears dribbling down her cheek.

“I know it was selfish but…”

He kisses her and lifts her up and carries her to the bed where they fall, limbs wrapped in each other, tangled, threatening to fuse together.

“You made me forget.” He says and she lays her hand on his chest. “For a moment there I didn’t have to be the Elder of the Brotherhood of Steel. I didn’t have the duty of care of everyone around me. I didn't have to consider every word I said. Every move I made didn’t have to be pre-planned. And I didn’t want it to end.“

“You made me feel like… me.” He says and the words sound stupid and naive and true. 

“I’ve missed this… missed you” she whispers and curls up against him. And she wants to tell him how every time she sees him, the Elder him, is like being stabbed in the chest. That keeping everything compartmentalized is a lot harder than she’d thought… so much so that it hurts.

“You have?” Arthur whispers and his voice is uncharacteristically shaky.

“Seeing you…keeping all this separate… do you think it’s been easy?” She runs her fingers through his hair then rests them on his cheek. “It’s like I had all these reasons of why it all had to be different now and then I’d see you and I wouldn’t be able to remember a single one.”

“That night when you gave me Salvation… you knew you were going to join the Brotherhood?”

“Yes.”

“Why didn’t you say anything?”

“I thought it would be easier to keep them separate.” She sighs and wraps her arms tighter around him. “That if we never spoke about it, it could remain this wonderful memory that happened in a different world…” 

The words sound empty and trite when she wants them to be anything but. The words of a fantasist with little on her mind but her own needs. 

_You lost Nate. You lost your world. You were too weak to save him. Too blind to see the war coming. You brought **them** into that vault. You ignored everything you’d heard about Vault Tec because you were weak and scared and your failings cost Nate his life. And you promised him you’ll be better. Stronger. That you won’t let the mistakes of the Old World affect the new. You’d fight it this time. You swore on his corpse._

_And then you found Arthur and something about him made you feel like you again- the old you. The weak you. And you were so desperate for that feeling you almost forgot your promise._

The voice burns bitterly. The voice that’s always at the back of her mind, the feelings she can’t silence. 

Selfish. It whispers. Weak and selfish. 

When she finally manages to push it back Arthur is sitting up, looking at her intently, waiting for an answer to a question she didn’t hear.

“Sorry” she whispers “I…I have to go.”

He says something but she doesn’t hear, the voice drowning out the sound of everything but the rising panic inside her. It only quiets down when she is on the vertibird on her way to Sanctuary.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much for reading, you are awesome! Let me know what you think :)


	11. Chapter 11

“I am Shawn. I am your son.”

No. It’s impossible. He is lying. He has to be.

“You are lying.” She stammers, half accusation, half plea.

“I assure you I’m not.” The man’s eyes are fixed on her, studying her every movement like she is the most fascinating thing he’s ever seen. With eyes that don’t belong on his face, eyes that are Nate’s and only Nate’s. 

“Then who…” she gestures at the kid, suspended mid-motion like some sort of puppet, locked away in a glass cage.

“A synth. You can say he is a personal project of mine.” Shawn’s- no, not Shawn’s, the man who is claiming to be him- eyes turn brighter, barely containing the excitement talking about this brings him. “What happens when you give a synth memories and let them grow up? How will it react? Can it be loved much like a child? What effect will it have on the adults around it? “ He sighs and his eyes get lost in the research. “We are already starting to see some interesting discoveries there with the team that’s working on him and we are only just beginning to explore the effects of extreme emotional stimuli. But,” he says and the simmering enthusiasm is pushed back “we can speak about him another time…He is not why you are here. I am.”

He sounds genuine. His eyes have the same spark Nate’s had whenever he tried to convince her to go along with his next crazy idea.

Allie looks back at the child, no, at the synth so motionless and alone. Aware one moment, empty the next. The spark of life that animated it mere seconds earlier, extinguished through the utterance of a few syllables. It's...unsettling.

“You are Shawn?” She steps up to him, hand brushing his cheek. He is older yes…but the eyes… eyes don’t lie. And his forehead is that of her father, the upturned corners of the mouth belonged to her mother. But then, she could be seeing what she wants to see. This could be yet another false trail…it could… “How?”

He guides her to a chair and pours her a glass of water then goes on to explain the Institute and his place in it. His words wash over her, some sinking in while others are filed away for later, for a time she could think this over. A delayed reaction. 

“You father…” She hears herself say “He never got to see you grow up.” _And neither did I_ her sub-conscience echoes _If what you are telling me is true. If…_

Shawn pauses and she can almost see his thought process, a meticulous, clinical analysis of the best way to handle this situation.

“What happened to him was…” 

And then he tries to justify it. Justify Nate’s murder. It was unfortunate, yes, but it couldn’t be helped. See, it was for the greater good. He doesn’t quite say it but the sentiment is there, slowly starting to raise yet another wall between them. And Allie tries to break it down, tries to stop her heart from slowly steeling itself against this man who is, or may be just was, her son.

He speaks about a shared vision and about salvaging humanity’s future. He asks her to meet with the department heads, to get to know the Institute, to give it a chance.

“Give me a chance.” He says and she agrees.

***

Allie is on the couch, empty bottles of Bourbon spread around her. It’s been a month since she’d climbed on the Molecular Relay and entered the Institute. A month since she’d discovered that her Shawn…her baby… was no longer hers. 

One day since Bunker Hill.

“I am so disappointed in you Shawn.” She’d said and he’d just looked at her like her words could not compute. Like she’d left the path of sensibility and gone down a road he could not even begin to understand.

“I’m sorry mother but,” he’d sighed, the belabored motion of a man too tired to continue arguing “if you are not with us, you are against us. One to beam out.” In a flash of blue light, he was gone. The son she’d turned the Commonwealth upside down for, lost to her once again.

_You failed him,_ the inner voice cackles _you failed Nate. You didn’t try hard enough._

So she keeps reliving the last month. Libertalia and watching a man have his entire life erased. Mayor McDonagh. The farmers, murdered, just to make room for an experiment. The greater good. The massacre of the CPG. FEV experiments. Always, the greater good. The Institute lauded as humanity’s best hope. 

And then, there was Bunker Hill.

“What about all the civilians? The traders? Shawn, there is no need to do this.” She’d tried to appeal to his logic, to his humanity. 

“I have it on good authority that some of them have been helping the Railroad. The ones that haven’t won’t be there.”

“And the Railroad?”

“Mother, I don’t think you understand. The Railroad started this by taking things that don’t belong to them. I understand property rights were big back in your day? Think of all the lives that may have been saved if they didn’t mess with technology they did not understand. Libertalia wouldn’t have happened. Countless others. Don’t you see? The people of the Commonwealth need this as much as we do.” Every word he says carries all the weight of his convictions with it. “We’ll try to minimize unnecessary casualties.” He throws in as an afterthought. 

“I can’t stand idly by and watch you do this Shawn.” She’d told him on the rooftop of the collapsed university building. “I can’t.”

“Then this is goodbye mother. I hope you find some measure of peace. I’m sorry you aren’t able to put your misplaced convictions aside.”

“Knight Hughes?” The sound of Proctor Ingram’s voice echoing through her pip boy startles her from her reverie. “Knight, you need to report back to the Prydwen immediately.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the long gap and thank you for reading and for the awesomely sweet comments!! :)


	12. Chapter 12

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> BLIND BETRAYAL SPOILERS. Avert your eyes if you haven't played it yet :)

“Are you absolutely sure?” Arthur asks Proctor Quinlan for a second time. The room is beginning to feel stiflingly hot.

“Yes. Elder, I double checked my findings before bringing them to your attention. I am aware of the gravity of the situation but DNA doesn’t lie. M7-97 and Paladin Danse are one and the same.” Quinlan’s voice is level, matter-of-fact. It lacks the heat of betrayal, the pang of loss, surprise- it’s as if he saw the infiltration of their ranks as just a matter of time. Maybe it was. After all, infiltrating the enemy’s headquarters is exactly what he’d done. 

“And he is the only one?” 

“Yes sir. I’ve run a full comparison of the results against our DNA data banks. There are no other weak links.”

That, at least, grants a temporary relief. 

“Thank you Proctor. Keep this between us for now, I don’t want to alert Danse- the synth- until we’ve got it in custody. I don’t want to give it the chance to inform the Institute it's cover has been blown.”

“Of course, sir. Ad victoriam.” 

Quinlan’s attention shifts back to the manual he’d been transcribing and so Arthur leaves the room, letting his feet guide him to somewhere he can think.

Danse. A traitor? When had it happened? How long ago had this abomination replaced one of the most honorable men he’d ever known? It had to pay. Had to pay for the murder of a Paladin of the Brotherhood of Steel. And after it’s dealt with the Institute itself will pay for this.

A cold emptiness steals into his stomach and settles at the pit, making his entire lower half feel like lead but he keeps moving forward, one foot, then the other.

Spying on them. Passing information on to the Institute. Every time the synths seemed to know the locations of one of his squads… was that all because of Danse? The time a courser had appeared out of nowhere, taking down two scribes? Knight Roy’s death at the hand of what looked like a commonwealth farmer. And…

No. 

But the thought keeps pushing all the others out, trying to get to the forefront of his mind. Had Danse- no, the synth- told the Institute about Liberty Prime? About their plans? It’d been a part of most of the meetings, been keep abreast of everything. A trusted advisor. A friend. A fucking traitor.

_And it did it all right in front of you Arthur._ The voice of his inner demon echoes. _You didn’t notice one of your best being replaced. And you call yourself a leader? How can you be so blind? How many more will they have to replace? How many are dead because you didn’t see it? The signs must have been there. But you, you are blind and weak. You’ve betrayed everything you stand for._

No. 

He pushes the thoughts down, as far down as they would go. Now isn’t the time to second guess decisions. Now isn’t the time to regret the past. Elder Maxson cannot afford such luxuries.

And Allie. Knight Hughes. Did she know? She’d been acting strange since the night in his quarters, not meeting his gaze, sending a tape of Institute records and her report through Scribe Haylen instead of delivering it herself.

No. She wouldn’t betray the Brotherhood. She wouldn't betray…

“Proctor Ingram,” he barks, realizing he’s come to a stop in front of her “Get in touch with Knight Hughes and ask her to report back immediately.”

“Yes sir.”

He’d know once he sees her. Until then, he needs to decide what to do with the synth.

***

“Knight Hughes, reporting as ordered sir.”

Her approach startles him out of the dark thoughts that have been building over the last few hours. A part of him wants to run to her, to Allie, to have her tell him this isn’t entirely his fault. That he hadn’t failed Danse, the real Danse. That he hadn’t failed everyone under his command. But this is something he cannot afford. Not here, not now.

“Is there anything you wish to tell me Knight?” he says instead. His eyes are locked in hers, hunting for any hint of foreknowledge, of… no, he can’t even think that word. He sees red eyes and dark bags, a look of buried anguish. No betrayal. But, if recent event have proved anything is that he couldn’t see it if it stared him in the face. 

“No Elder. I’ve always been straight with you.”

“Proctor Quinlan completed the retrieval of the Institute data you acquired.” He sees something flicker in Allie’s eyes but pushes on. “A portion of it included information of synths that went missing. Paladin Danse is a perfect match for a synth called M7-97.”

“That’s impossible.” Her reaction is immediate, with an unguarded ferocity he’s never seen before. A few seconds pass between them. 

“You didn’t know?”

“No.”

“I find that very hard to believe Knight.”

He watches the fire, the anger burning in her, the concentration as she suppresses the words rising to her lips. 

“Sir,” she says instead, annunciating every word with a voice that could cut through the Prydwen like a knife through butter. “Have I ever given you a reason to question my loyalty?”

“No Knight. This is why I’m entrusting you with the most difficult mission I’ve ever had to hand out. I am ordering you to find the synth and execute him.”

Time stretches between them and for the first time since he’s met her, he can’t read her face. 

“You do not have him in custody sir?”

“No. Report to Proctor Quinlan- he will help you find his location.”

“Sir, yes sir.” 

She salutes him, an old world salute he’s only read about in books, and turns on her heel.

“If we are to remain strong we cannot afford to make exceptions, even if it means executing one of our own.” He says, part to himself, part to her.

She doesn’t turn, doesn’t give any indication that she’s heard him. She simply mounts the stairs and heads towards Proctor Quinlan’s study.

***

Arthur wakes up in a cold sweat. 

3.30. 

He’s been asleep for less than thirty minutes- thirty minutes that had stretched into a restless eternity. Something doesn't feel right. The way Allie had taken the orders, the utterly obedient look in her eyes, the lack of questions. The woman who’d burnt with fire at the mere accusation that Danse was anything but a loyal Brotherhood soldier calmly accepting to carry out his execution.

Something is very wrong. He shrugs on his coat and leaves the room. There’ll be no more sleep tonight. He finds Proctor Quinlan dozing, head resting on his terminal, that damned cat curled up in the crook of his neck.

“Proctor.”

“Elder.” Quinlan doesn’t miss a beat. “What can I do for you?”

“You helped Knight Hughes find the synth’s location.”

“Yes. Excellent material, that Knight. She'd make an excellent Paladin one day... one day soon." Quinlan is fully aware of the gap in the chain of command Danse's death will cause. The need to replace him as soon as possible. "She knows how to carry out orders.”

“Thank you Proctor. And the synth’s location?”

He waits as Quinlan pulls out a map.

“Listening Post Bravo.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading, commenting, being generally awesome and keeping me going :)


	13. Chapter 13

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> MORE BLIND BETRAYAL SPOILERS :)

Allie steadies herself and downs the last dregs of coffee from her thermos. Temporary alertness pushes back the Bourbon-induced fog, making the uneasy feeling that built up on the flight here even more prominent. Something feels very wrong. Pushing the thought aside, she heads in until she finds herself standing in front of Elder Maxson.

“Is there anything you wish to tell me Knight?”

His words cut at her, slicing at the wall of calm she is trying to maintain. They reach for the secrets she’s concealing, for the truth about Shawn. She wants to tell him, to have him make it all better, have him tell her that she had not failed. That there was nothing else she could have done. But that is not why he’d called her here. The words that follow are quite different, they are not about Shawn at all. They are words that have no place in the world, that should have no life.

Danse. A synth. 

Impossible. She’d seen him a little over a week ago, training a group of Scribe-Initiates in hand to hand combat. He’d been himself. The same loyal, honorable, badass man she’d come to depend on. The man who’d watched her back in the Glowing Sea. Who trusted her with his life. Her friend. 

A synth.

She feels anger building up inside her and pushes it down. Elder Maxson is watching her every move and she can sense what’s coming. The Brotherhood is at war and they’ve found an enemy combatant hiding in their midst, pretending to be one of their own. There’s only one course of action here.

Carefully, meticulously, Allie pushes her feelings down until her mind is almost blank. The gray canvas of the gray man. Even Arthur shouldn’t be able to see through it, at least for a little while.

She takes the orders and it isn’t until she is standing in front of Proctor Quinlan that she realizes she used the wrong salute. 

***

“Danse is the most selfless person I’ve ever met. I’ve watched him risk his own life based on nothing more but principle alone. That’s why I’m asking you, not just as a member of the Brotherhood but as a human being, to give him a chance. Let him tell his side of the story. If you are not convinced by what he says or somehow he’s become truly lost to us, then you do what you have to do.” 

Haylen’s voice is on the verge of breaking, her plea an honest appeal to justice, to due process. Allie remains impassive, unyielding. 

“If that is all Scribe, I need the synth’s location.”

She sees the betrayal in Haylen’s eyes as hope begins to dwindle. The reluctance as she identifies listening post Bravo as her mentor’s most likely location. The division of loyalty between the Institution she served and the man who’d made her believe in its cause. 

“Thank you scribe. Ad victoriam.”

A patrol vertibird drops her four miles from the synth’s location and she proceeds cautiously, weighing every option carefully until the plan that had started forming on the flight deck takes a more concrete shape. She approaches the bunker from the west, scanning the area for any defenses when a sudden burst of fire from a concealed turret barely misses her shoulder. Shit. She disables the turrets and moves in, taking the elevator down into the heart of the Bunker. The protections attack her almost immediately.

“Call them off Paladin.” She shouts over the fire and a few seconds later, the shooting stops. Allie steps out, her pistol lowered.

Danse watches her approach. Watches as she puts the pistol down on the table then unshoulders her sniper rifle and places it next to it.

“You.” He says. “I’m not surprised Maxson sent you.”

“Would you rather he sent someone else?”

Danse avoids the question.

“Did you know?” she asks instead.

“That I was a synth? No. When Quinlan got the list decoded Haylen was one of the scribes that helped go through the data. She came to find me, at great personal risk and I…Well, I ended up here.”

“Why didn’t you come to me?” 

“I… I couldn’t put you at risk. You would have been aiding and abetting a known synth.” His lip curls up, his eyes harden. “And synths are the enemy. Plus…I couldn’t know…” He leaves it hanging, the doubt, the fear that despite everything they’d been through she wouldn’t be there for him now, when he needed her most. “You are here now. What are your orders? Does Maxson even want me alive?”

“No.” Allie holds his gaze and watches as the words sink in.

“I live my life for the Brotherhood. I will not stand in your way Knight. Do your duty.”

The veneer begins to crack. 

“Oh fuck off.” She spits. “Are you going to stand there and tell me you honestly think I came here to kill you? After everything we’ve been through?” Allie laughs, a mirthless sound. “Get your head out of your ass Jack.”

“You have your orders Knight. If you don’t carry them out you are betraying everything the Brotherhood stands for. I…” His tone softens. “I realize that this must be difficult for you but there are times when we all have to put personal feelings aside, to do what is right.”

“I’m not the one who needs to put my personal feelings aside here.”

“What do you mean?” His eyes widen, unsure at her meaning. 

“You are ready to throw away everything you’ve done, all the choices you’ve made, for what? Because you found out you were a synth? That's not the man I know. The man I know would fight this.” She lowers her voice, forcing him to move a little bit closer, to start closing the gaping hole of mistrust the revelation had created. "And you are fighting it. This is why you came here. Being a synth doesn't change what you've done..."

“You don’t understand…” He interrupts her, heat rushing to his cheeks. “None of this matters now… I’m… Don’t you get it Allie? I’m the enemy!”

“Have you ever done anything to betray the Brotherhood?”

“No.”

“Will you ever do anything to betray the Brotherhood?”

“No.”

“Then you are not, and you will never be, my enemy Jack. We are fighting the Institute because of what they do, because of what they make their synths do. You are not my enemy." She pauses and hopes at least a part of it will sink in. Enough to work with. Enough to get him out of here. "We’ll get you through this, I promise.” She closes the space between them and takes his hand in hers. “You asked me once what made me decide to join the Brotherhood. I told you it was the sight of the Prydwen bringing light and hope to the darkness that engulfed the Commonwealth.” She chuckles, a genuine, warm sound this time that reverberates through the air around them. “Killing you will add to the darkness and I’m not willing to do that. It will dishonor Roger Maxson’s memory and what the Brotherhood truly stands for, even if some of us have forgotten it.”

“Allie…”

“You can tell me how wrong I am later. Please Jack...I've lost enough people."

Her words hit him harder that he'd anticipated. Harder that he thought anything could after what Haylen had said and all he can do is nod and squeeze her hand.

"Its getting dark. Take this.” She takes of her pip boy and hands it to him. “It will let you scan for any hostile patrols. There’s a safe house at this location where you can lay low for a little while.”

“I…I can’t take this.”

“Of course you can.” She clips it on his arm. “Now, give me your hollotags.”

He takes them off, wordlessly hands them to her. That's when they hear a vertibird land on the roof.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Almost done with Blind Betrayal, I swear :) I changed the dialogue to reflect the conversation Allie would have with Danse (partly based on what I wanted to shout at my TV) Thanks for reading, your comments put a giant silly grin on my face that's almost as handsome as Hancock's and the kudos keep the creative fire burning!


	14. Chapter 14

Arthur fights the rising unease that gnaws at his insides as the vertibird approaches listening post Bravo. Every ounce of logic he’s got left tells him that there is nothing to worry about, that he shouldn’t even be here. He made the right choice, the only choice. He was dealt a tainted hand and did the only thing he could under the circumstances. The only thing anyone could.

It doesn’t matter. Everything feels out of synch, like the cap is about to drop and smack him on the head.

Knight Hughes has given him no reason to doubt the validity of his order. She’d moved with slick efficiency, a ruthless determination according to Quinlan. It was exactly that, the way she’d gone from anger to an almost complete lack of emotion, the way she’d suddenly suppressed her words… It was all too much like what Lyons had tried to teach him.

_“I may not be much of a politician Arthur, but you’ll need to be. A great leader can’t always make his intentions known.” He'd said to him a few days before his death._

_“But you do sir.”_

_“Yes, and I’m sure there’ll be many all too happy to tell you that I’m weak.”_

_“But isn’t that dishonest, sir?”_

_Lyons had sighed and looked at him with a mixture of pride and pity._

_“A wise leader knows when to speak and when to be silent. I have not been a wise leader. Too hot headed sometimes for my own good…”He shakes his head and is lost in his own thoughts for a while. “Though of course, an Elder should never admit that. You, Arthur Maxson, can be a great Elder! You can make us what we need to be, what we were always meant to be. Guardians of Technology yes, but first and foremost we need to be the protectors of humanity. What use is there if in our attempts to keep it safe we smother the baby?” He’d chuckled, a secret joke Arthur hadn’t understood until recently._

Arthur did his best. Keeping his own council, playing by all the rules right up until he’d walked into the Third Rail that night. The night all the rules he’d put in place for himself had jumbled up and stopped making sense. 

The vertibird lands on the roof.

“Continue with your patrol. I’ll light the signal when we are ready to depart.”

Arthur walks towards the bunker. The two laser turrets that had protected it are still smoking and his stomach lurches violently, his unease grows in substance. He draws his weapon and moves towards the door, leaning against the outer wall while he pushes it open from the side and then enters the room, ready. He comes face to face with Allie, Deliverer in her hand pointed squarely at his head. A split second later both their weapons are lowered.

“Elder.”

“Knight.”

Silence falls between them. Her shoulders are still too squared, her movements too contrived, the way she is looking at him too… rehearsed. His own body language mirrors hers, cold where it should be warm, aloof where it should be trusting.

“You do not agree with my orders.” The words tumble out and as soon as he says them, he realizes that is exactly what has been gnawing at him. She’d mirrored the way he behaved around the other Elders, around the Council.

“Permission to speak candidly sir?” She says, her voice still steel.

“Permission granted.”

“They are ridiculous orders Arthur.” The disguise drops.

The fire is back, the last remnants of the shell she’d wrapped herself in cracking and falling apart in front of them. He lets himself get swept up in it, in the heat and indignancy that’s sweeping both of them in its wake.

“Are they? He is a synth Allie! A machine! An automaton created by the Institute. He is the physical embodiment of what we hate most. And as long as he is around, he is a threat to the Brotherhood soldiers who trust me with their lives!” 

Heat engulfs him, blinding him, burning the guards that are always in place, the protective measures he uses to measure his words, his actions. 

“Look at the scorched earth! At the bones that litter the Wasteland! Millions, perhaps even billions died because science outpaced man’s restraint. They called it a “new frontier” and “pushing the envelope” completely disregarding the repercussions. Can’t you see the same thing is happening again?”

“That’s the Institute’s doing Arthur, not his!” She shouts back, matching fire with ferocity. “You can’t blame the son for the sins of the father, not when he has done nothing to make us question his loyalty!” She takes a step towards him and they are almost touching, heat and anger the only thing between them. “Danse has lived his entire life for the Brotherhood, he’d never do anything to harm it! Don’t you understand? He didn’t know he was a synth.” Her eyes are locked in his, blue fire on blue.

“How can you trust the word of a machine that thinks its alive? A machine that’s had its mind erased, its thoughts programmed… its very soul manufactured!”

“Because he’s saved my life, our lives, more times than I can count!”

“For all you know that could have been exactly why he was made! To lull us into a false sense of security, to strike when we are at our weakest! I will not be responsible for the deaths of Brotherhood soldiers at the hands of a synth infiltrator and I will do everything in my power to make sure that never happens.”

“I know.” Allie says and her eyes are suddenly wide and sad and looking straight into him, like she could see all that was and is and ever will be of the shell of Arthur Maxson. 

“Even if Danse didn’t know…” He stops there but can’t bring himself to say the words. If Danse had wanted to, he’d been in a position where he could have dealt a blow so deadly, the Brotherhood may have never recovered. That possibility is too raw, too fresh to be overlooked. 

“I know you can’t let him stay in the Brotherhood. We are at war.”

“Then what would you have me do?”

“Spare his life.”

“And if I don’t?”

She doesn’t answer immediately, just moves even closer until their bodies are touching and her hand brushes against his face, so close he could feel her breath on his lips. “If we are going to rebuild the Commonwealth we need exceptions, not examples.” She says at last and takes a step back. “We can’t afford to lose our own humanity Arthur. If we do, we become worse than the Institute.”

“Where is he?”

“Downstairs.”

Arthur nods and steps into the elevator. They make their way down in silence. When the doors open he sees Danse standing there, still in his orange jumpsuit, the same as always and yet… The confident certainty that simmered underneath the surface isn’t there. He looks smaller, like a man whose entire world has been ripped out from right underneath him.

“Paladin Danse, report.”

Danse takes a step towards him, slowly, cautiously, casting an uncertain look at Allie. The whole scene feels wrong. Danse, the man who’d never wavered in the face of anything, now seeking external support.

“As far as the Brotherhood of Steel is concerned you are dead. You were pursued and slain by this Knight and your remains were incinerated. From this day forward you are forbidden to set foot on the Prydwen, or to speak to anyone from the Brotherhood of Steel. Should you choose to ignore me, know that you’ll be fired upon immediately. Do we understand each other?”

“Yes.”

Elder Maxson doesn’t say anything, he nods curtly and turns on his heel. 

“Knight, I’ll call the vertibird back. Say your goodbyes and meet me on the flight platform.”

“Yes sir.” 

He walks back to the spot and sets the signal alight. He turns and is about to head back to the bunker when he hears a crashing noise behind him and sees Death’s glowing personification running towards him. Instincts take over and he empties his laser pistol into it, bursts of light bouncing off of its hardened scales. He tries to move to higher ground, the Deathclaw now blocking him from the bunker, when his foot catches and he stumbles backwards. The monster lets out a scream and advances, its pray now grossly disadvantaged. 

It’s so close that he can almost smell its breath, see the blood of its last victim on its fangs. It is sulphur and warmth and death. He carefully unsheathes his knife, trying to move as little as possible, to prepare himself for this last hopeless stand. It lunges at him, claw sinking into his chest as he pushes his knife into its belly. The beast staggers backwards and then Allie is there emptying her semi automatic rifle into it, the bullets ripping flesh piece by peace until it collapses at her feet.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading, commenting and generally existing! Hope this satisfies and continues to do so :)


	15. Chapter 15

“ARTHUR!” 

Allie feels her heart in her throat. A primal impulse wakes when she sees him like this, pushing years of honed instinct to the side. Instead of seeking cover she walks towards the beast, rifle pointed straight at it and keeps firing until it is dead, ignoring the fact that it is moving closer to her, that she can almost feel its breath on her face. It is stupid and dangerous. The Deathclaw falls mere inches away from her, one clawed arm extended, preparing to strike and for a second she stands frozen in time, squeezing her rifle like the fate of the world depends on it. Then _he_ comes into view, clothing ripped, the side where the beast struck him bleeding freely now.

“I’m ok.” He manages but it’s like his voice is being funneled through a tunnel, distant and not fully real.

“You idiot.” She kneels at his side and pushes the pain and fear aside. He needs her now, the rational, thinking her that can help save him. “Don’t you dare die on me now, sir.” Calling him by his name would make it all too real, then it would be _him_ bleeding out in front of her. _Him_ she’d be losing all over again. 

“Yes, Knight.” He says but his voice is too soft. Above them, the vertibird prepares for landing. Something makes her turn back towards the beast, towards the bunker, and she seems Danse standing in the doorway, medkit in hand, looking at the landing craft, uncertain. She shakes her head empathically and mouths no, hoping it’s enough to keep him back. Risking his life would not help Elder Maxson. Instead, Allie takes out the small kit she always carries on her and injects him with med-ex, rad-ex and a couple of stimpacks to slow the bleeding and stave off infection. She unrolls the bandages, carefully covering the wound, and applies pressure. The vertibird lands.

“Over here.”

Lance Corporal Cail runs towards her, his face turning ashen at the sight of Maxson.

“Corporal, there should be a stretcher in the vertibird along with a first aid kid and some blankets. Get them.”

Cail looks at her for a moment and then nods, sprinting back towards the vertibird. He returns a few seconds later, the stretcher awkwardly tucked under his arm.

“Fold it out then take lay a blanket on top.” Cail carries out Allie’s instructions while she keeps pressure on Arthur’s chest, bringing the stretcher a mere inches away from Arthur, lining it up.

“We need to lift him carefully. I’ll take the top, you take the bottom. On three.”

As they lift him, Arthur lets out a soft moan. Allie presses a hand to his forehead, now clammy.

“Stay with me sir, we are almost there.” They lift the stretcher, moving him as smoothly as possible, painful step by painful step. Once inside they secure the stretcher in place.

“Take us back to the Prydwen.”

“Ma’am.”

Allie takes all the spare blankets and clothes she could find and bundles them around Arthur, trying to keep him as warm as possible, to prevent him from slipping into shock. The bleeding is mostly under control now but his breathing is getting more labored despite no apparent damage to the major organs. 

“Allie.” he whispers, his eyes fluttering open then shut.

“I’m here.” She grasps his hand, the other resting on his forehead.

“Am I going to die?” There’s something about the way he says it that sounds so completely unlike Arthur Maxson that makes her feel like she swallowed a ball of lead determined on weighing her down until she could no longer move. The man she knows wouldn’t let something as simple as a deadly battle with a deathclaw faze him. 

“Not on my watch. If I let anything happen to you I won’t be able to show my face on the Prydwen again and we can’t have that. I’ve got an excellent face.” She tries to smile, willing her face muscles up. He lets out a throaty sound, something between a chuckle and a groan of pain. 

“Corporal, get me another stimpack.” she says. 

***

When Knight Captain Cade emerges from the emergency room, it’s three hours later. Allie is slumped against the wall, a half full bottle of water still clutched in her hand.

“Knight.”

She comes to with a start, the quick movement causing some of the water to spill.

“Is he…”

“He is going to be just fine Knight.”

“The wound looked…”

He cuts her off with a lifted hand.

“He suffered some radiation poisoning from the claw marks but the rad-ex/med-ex cocktail in his blood stream prevented it from doing any permanent damage. Luckily no major organs were badly damaged and he’ll make a full recovery. Now, were you hurt?”

“No sir.”

“You should rest now Knight, you can come back and see him in the morning.”

Allie nods and collapses into the closest chair. Everything turns dark.

***

“Sleep well?”

Allie wakes up to Proctor Ingram towering over her. She tries to nod but her head feels incredibly heavy.

“Cade said he tried to get Knight Danes to move you to a bunk but you just hugged the chair tighter and swatted at him.” Ingram lets her lips curl upwards lightly, an almost smile. “I would have payed good caps to see that!”

“It’s a good chair. How long have I been out?”

“Oh, about 24 hours.”

“Shit. At least that explains why I can barely move my head.” Allie tries standing but her muscles rebel against the idea. “And Cade left me here all that time?”

“After you threatened to make an army of tiny robotic deathclaws and set them on him he gave up. Even the smell wasn’t worth risking that kind of vengeance.”

“I didn’t say that!” 

“You mumbled something about robots and deathclaws- plus” A full smile now sits on Ingrams face, “that’s what I would do.”

“I’ll have to take your word on that. Is he awake?” There’s no need to clarify who she means.

“Mostly. He wants to see you.”

Allie nods and pushes herself out of the chair, leaning on the wall for support. Arthur looks better, propped up with some pillows, his chest wrapped in clean white bandages, his eyes tired but mostly alert.

“Elder.”

“Knight.”

“Please sit.” He nods towards the chair next to the top of the bed and Allie takes it, suddenly all too aware that she’s still covered in blood, part his, part the Deathclaw’s.

“How are you feeling?” She says softly.

“I’ve been better, but” he drops his voice until only she could hear him. “From what I understand it could have been a lot worse. You saved my life.”

“I did what anyone would have done.”

He is about to say something when there’s a shuffle of footsteps outside and Lance Corporal Kells walks into the room.

“I’m sorry to interrupt but there’s an urgent message for Knight Hughes. Preston Garvey of the Minutemen just got in touch via the radio. He says the Institute is circling the Castle, preparing for an attack.”

“Shit.” 

“Sir, if they are preparing to attack the Minutemen…” Allie sees something resembling unease in his eyes, in his demeanor. Kells, who never lets anything faze him. He pauses for a fraction before continuing. “If I was the Institute I’d hit all my enemies at once. They have the manpower and it makes tactical sense. Liberty Prime isn’t fully operational yet and…”

“Mobilize all units and double vertibird patrols of the area” Maxson cuts him off “ Have them look for any activity that’s out of the ordinary. Double the guard around Liberty Prime.” He turns to Allie. “Knight…I was going to wait until we were out of here but circumstances have pushed my hand. The execution of Paladin Danse has created a missing link in our chain of command. He held an important position with us and I’m certain that you’ll make a fine replacement. Congratulations Paladin.” He brings his hand to his chest.

“Sir.”

“You’ve earned it. Your first assignment is to offer the Minutemen any assistance you can. The Institute is finally showing their hand and with that their true nature. Attacking a group of civilians without provocation is not only the act of a coward, it goes against decency and humanity. I'm afraid I can't spare any vertibirds but, I’m sending our best.” His hand reaches up and takes hers. The light squeeze, the look in his eye, says more than words could in this moment.

“There’s a patrol ready to head out on the flight deck Paladin.” Kells interrupts. “They can drop you off near the Castle.”

“Thank you sir. Ad Victoriam.” With one final look at Arthur, Allie leaves the room. The tide shifts again, the call of all out war with the Institute upon them now. It was something she’d hoped that they could avoid. That Shaun would see sense, that he’d see the Minutemen for what they were- a way to bring hope to the people of the Commonwealth. Now her own flesh and blood was willing to draw first blood against the very people that tried to stitch the world back together one sorry piece at a time without a thought to themselves.

But war, war never changes.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading awesome people and sorry this last update has taken me so long to do!! Enjoy :)


	16. Chapter 16

The two faces blend together, kind brown eyes with steel blue. The one that died merging with the one that lives. And through them both, a set of green ones, set in an aging face full of disappointment, try to claw their way into her very soul. 

_“You knew this would happen, Mother.” They whisper, taunting her. “You can’t have been this blind. You let my father down. You let me down. Sooner or later you’ll let **him** down too and all these people that have tied their fate to yours.” His face comes into focus first, then his head, his body until he walks towards her. Shawn. Her baby boy, lost forever. “You could have stopped all of this. You could have joined us, humanity’s last hope. You could have been with me, your son. Isn’t that what my father would have wanted?” _

_This Shawn is even colder than the real one, his teeth pointed, his smile cruel, his words sharper still. This Shawn knows her, the heart of her. All the fears, all the doubts. “Now you’ll fail them all Mother, like you failed me. You’ve lost and I see you. I see you like they never can. I see you.”_

“General?” Preston Garvey shakes her awake. Her eyes crack open and for a second he sees a profound emptiness in them, the kind of emptiness he knew was in his before Sanctuary Hills. And then it’s gone, replaced by the subtle twinkle of determination. 

“How are the preparations coming along?” she asks.

They’d spent the last three days fortifying the Castle’s defenses. She’d sent a message to Deacon warning of possible Institute activity near HQ. Everyone was as ready as they could be for an enemy that could strike at the heart of any compound, a flash of light its only warning. 

“Yes. Jack and Ronnie built the sniper nests, the Artillery is fully operational and we’ve discussed tactics so many times I can cite them in my sleep.” He sighs and sits down next to her. “It’s like the Institute’s been trying to psych us out the last few days, a few skirmishes here, the threat of attack there but nothing final. Still, something tells me they are going to hit us soon.”

“And Sturges’s surprise?”

“He is pretty sure it’s going to work.” Preston grins, a rare moment of levity in this mess. “If any synths try to relay inside the Castle their circuits will get fried. Well, that or super charged. He wasn’t entirely sure when I asked.”

“Great.” Allie mirrors his smile, willing herself to exude confidence with every pore. The times for nightmares and doubts passed her by a long time ago and right now, more than ever, she needs to be strong. For Preston. For the Minutemen. “Let’s take a turn round the walkway.”

“Yes General.”

***

The attack finally comes when the mid-day sun is at its hottest, the bulk of the day wearing the watchmen down. The synths don’t have to rely on the cover of darkness when they can appear wherever they wish through the power of science. Still, the Minutemen are ready. The first wave that apparates inside the Castle are fried, Sturges’s genius in play once more.

The second wave yields bloodier results as a combination of Gen 1s and 2s, provide cannon fodder while interspersed Coursers take positions and focus on taking down the snipers. The sound of laser pistols is drowned by the artillery cannons crashing around them, a haze of fire and death. The synths don’t scream when they die, the lower gens get blown apart, metal parts flying this way and that, lifeless, voiceless. The coursers are too well trained, too proud and dedicated to Father, to their training, to make a human sound even when Ronnie’s battling laser separates one’s arm from his body.

Allie and Danse, she in his old power armor, he in one of her rescued suits, lean against each side of the only entrance to the Castle and fire into the ranks, each synth replaced by another as soon as they are down. Two minutemen are behind them, loading magazines into spare laser rifles and pass them forward to the knights in this last stand. From the battlements, a combination of snipers and grenade launchers under Ronnie rain fire from the skies. 

This battle for the Castle will go down in the history of the Commonwealth as one of the greatest displays of bravery by simple men and women, fighting for their homes, fighting for their freedom against an unrelenting enemy and an unprovoked attack. An enemy who sees them as beyond saving because they chose to remain above ground and make the best of what was left of the world that abandoned them. An enemy that strikes from the shadows choosing to send others to do their fighting for them. 

At six pm the last of the synths is shot by Blake Abernathy, his face encrusted by blood, and his shout of victory is carried through the Castle. 

***

“You can fight, I’d give you that.” Ronnie mutters through pursed lips, cigarette smoke weaving in the evening air around her. “If you’d told me two people could hold that gate I’d have laughed you out of the Commonwealth.” She takes another drag. “Can I ask you something General?” The question itself is rather unusual, especially coming from someone as acerbic as Ronnie. If she wanted to say something she said it, Old World manners be damned.

“As long as it’s not for my last cigarette.” Allie cracks a smile, lighting the last of the pack she’d taken from Shaun’s desk before leaving the Institute the day of Bunker Hill. It had seemed fitting somehow. Ronnie ignores that, pushing ahead.

“Why did they attack now? Why here? There’s something about the Institute… They were content to be in the shadows for so long, why attack now? Why us? It just…it doesn’t seem like they had much to gain.”

“I don’t know.” Allie says and it’s mostly true, like all the damned statements she’s had to make lately. “There are…rumors. Rumors that they are running out of energy and need something from the Commonwealth to keep it going.” Again, partly true. Like all the bloody truths these damned days.

“Damn the Institute. Damn them and these damn synths. We lost a lot of good folks today, I just hope it was for something.”

“I’ll make sure it is.”

“That a promise General?”

“That’s a promise.” Allie’s eyes are steel. 

“Good.”

Allie takes a final drag and crushes the cigarette under her foot. Sturges is working on a way to get into the Institute. A way to end this. Shawn changed the tides, forcing her hand by starting this unnecessary war. Now it was the Institute, or death.

***

On the flight deck of the Prydwen, Arthur Maxson watches as the synths attack the airport and are pushed back by his Knights and Paladins in a sea of laser fire. He pushes back the feelings of uselessness that threaten to overwhelm him. He should be down there, fighting side by side with his men. Instead he’s been wheeled to the command deck, his chest wound still too raw to allow him proper movement. 

Now he sits, a useless figure of authority, as his brothers and sisters in Steel risk their lives and fight.


	17. Chapter 17

After the attack, each settlement sends a representative to the Castle forming a makeshift council to debate their next move.

“They forced our hand when they attacked the Castle unprovoked.” Blake Abertnathy, his arm in a cast, spits. “If we don’t respond they’ll keep coming until we are all dead or worse.” 

“We need to hit them back now.” Ronnie responds, her eyes gleaming with disdain. “They can keep making the damned synths until there are no Minutemen left to fight. We don’t have that luxury. We need to strike hard and strike now damnit. Preston?”

“I just don’t get it. Why’d they need to come mess with us?” Preston sighs and leans forward in his seat, clenched fists resting on the table. 

“We can debate the why until our teeth rot.” Ronnie barks. “But it won’t solve anything.”

“Yes.” He sighs. “We’ll need to make sure we give everyone who wants to leave the Institute a chance to do so.” He shakes his head sadly. “ We’re not going in to commit mass murder. We are not… well, not them. That much I know. I just…” He shakes his head again, the weight of the last few days, of the brave men and women they lost, bearing down on him.

“Of course.” Allie says. “Everyone who wants to leave will have a chance to do so.”

“And the…” Someone asks, an unfinished question.

“Everyone who wants to will have a chance to leave.” Allie repeats, emphasizing each word.

“Good.” Preston sighs. “Then we are decided. Now we need a way in.”

***

“I decoded most of the data the you brought back from the Institute and,” Sturges takes a deep breath and plants his finger on the map, on a spot close to the university bridge. “They still use this old water pipe that runs out to the river. Brings in cooling water for the reactor. I’ve studied the engineering of these things and you should be able to make it into the service tunnels from there.”

“And once I’m in?” Allie asks. 

“Nick helped me write this program.” He hands Allie a holotape. “The service tunnels should take you to that same part of the Institute you teleported to that first time. You put that baby in and we’ll appear right beside you. I'm working on a teleporter of sorts... And then…” He bends over, gently picks up a box and places it on the table. “I’m building this detonation device. A fusion pulse charge. We’ll set that on the power reactor and…” He doesn’t finish the sentence. There’s no need to.

The next two days are spent discreetly gathering together a small band of the best shooters at their disposal to infiltrate the Institute. The impromptu council decides that it’s best to keep this as quiet as possible as even covert messages can put everyone at risk.

 _Your first assignment is to offer the Minutemen any assistance you can._ Elder Maxson’s words echo through her mind. Involving the Brotherhood now would be… risky. The more people know about the attack, the more things could go wrong. Not telling them, however, comes with an entirely different set of consequences.

“Consequences I’ll have to face.” Allie whispers to the darkness.

“Allie?” Danse stands beside her. It’s strange seeing him like this, in reclaimed leather armor, so far away from the world he’d been a part of for so long. His laser rifle is slung across his shoulder, a set of pistols holstered at his hip, the handle of a throwing knife barely visible tucked in his boot.

“Ready?” She looks at him and gives him a light smile then adjusts Overseers Guardian in the leather holster on her back. There won’t be much need for a sniper rifle in the tunnels. 

“Let’s do this.” He replies, shoulders squared, voice determined.

***

“Come to see the reactor, have you?” Shaun is lying in bed, a metal covering pulled up to his hips, his skin pale, clammy, his green eyes defiant.

“There’s no going back, Shaun. The Institute has to be stopped.”

“And you’ve decided this for yourself? Or has it been fed to you by the corrupt societies above ground?” He glances over at Danse as if he alone represents all these loathsome ideas. “It’s not enough that I lay here, dying…Now you plan on what, destroying everything?”

Something inside Allie finally snaps. The calmness of his voice, the baseless accusations. His refusal to see anything outside of his reality.

“How can you say that to me?” She says, voice dripping molten steel. “After everything you’ve done? You… you ordered an attack on the Castle, on innocent people Shaun! And all for what? Because I refused to be your puppet? You used me from the start but now… you went too far son.”

He ignores the outburst like it holds no meaning. Like nothing she says is capable of breaching this wall of ice between them.

“And I suppose you’ve never used anyone, mother. Tell me,” he says “ is that what gives you this… this righteous demeanor? Do you imagine you are some sort of savior?" He chuckles mirthlessly. "The Commonwealth is nothing but ashes and death. We, this Institute we have built, are humanity’s best hope. Its only hope. And you are throwing it all away because of a few dead contaminants.”

“Contaminants? Is that what they are to you?”

“Their DNA’s been altered. Changed. They kill over scraps of metal while we search for what it means to be human. How do you want me to see them, mother?”

“Could you wait outside?” Allie turns towards Danse, her gaze unreadable.

Danse leaves the room, trying to keep his mind on the job and not on the identity of the Institute’s leader. The true scope of his friends decision begins to sink in. The son she’d lost. Here. A few minutes later he hears the hollow pop of Deliver and she steps out, glassy eyes fixed dead ahead.

“It's time to end this,” she says.

***

An earth shattering bang, louder than Arthur Maxson has ever heard, shakes the Prydwen, causing Cade to drop the stimpack he is holding.

“Help me get to the flight deck, now.” Elder Maxson barks and they set off, moving past bleary eyed Knights and confused initiates. The sky is red. A burning, smoking glow emanates from the heart of the city, bringing heat and radiation with it.

“Was that…” Proctor Ingram stands beside him, her hands gripping the rail, her face pale.

“The Institute.” It has to be. It’s too soon after the attack to be anything else. Paladin Hughes hasn’t reported back since the battle for the Castle and now, now he knows why. The enemy that brought him here, the Boogyman of the Commonwealth, vanquished. All that achieved with minimum casualties through the actions of one Brotherhood Paladin. 

He should feel pride. Peace. Relief. But he doesn’t. Instead, fear grips his insides.

“Get me Captain Kells.” He barks at a wide eyed initiate. “Now.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading, commenting, leaving kudos and being awesome :)
> 
> P.S. I find it really weird that Sturges can build a frickin mollecular relay (and probably a twin for Liberty Prime given enough time) out of scrap but couldn't crack that novice terminal in Concord. So my head canon is that Nick gives him a hand with the two tapes he gives you :)


	18. Chapter 18

The world ends again. With the push of a small red button, the flow of history diverges into a new stream. The last remnants of Allie’s old life, the one before the bombs, are ripped from her by the same forces that created the Wasteland. Only this time, she’s the one that makes it happen. Preston sighs beside her, running a blood stained hand over his forehead.

“Holy shit. I hope…”he stammers “I hope as many people as possible got out. I hate that we had to do that but they left us no choice. It was war.” Something about his voice makes Allie wonder if he is saying it more for her benefit that his.

War. It doesn’t matter what she does, where she goes, how far she runs…war, war is always there, sneaking behind her, tracking her footsteps. From the fields of Anchorage to the military law library and all the way into the future. Now Nate is gone, Shawn is gone and war is still here. Always here.

“The war against the Institute is over. The way is now clear for the Commonwealth to finally come together and build something good for the future.” Preston says and she wants to believe him while the other part wants to scream, to hide, to be anywhere but here, the button still hot under her fingertips but now is not the time for that. The Minutemen fought bravely, fearlessly. Today, they deserve a General that revels in their victory. Preston deserves that. 

“Yes.” She pushes her lips into a smile, forces her eyes to soften. “It’s a new day for the Commonwealth. Now if you flash me that pretty smile, I might even be able to get us a lift back to the Castle.” She pulls out a Vertibird grenade and lights it. 

***

_“Are you happy now?” Shaun’s body is in the bed, his head is tilted back, a bullet lodged in his skull, surrounded by a pool of blood. His lips are blue and barely moving, his eyes glazed over but still capable of seeing into the heart of her. “Are you happy now Mother? I hope you are happy.”_

_The scene shifts and it is Nate, Nate entombed behind the glass of the cryochamber, frozen in time._

_“How could you do this Allie?” He asks her, his voice muffled by the glass. “How could you do this to our son? Did we mean so little to you? Did I?”_

_And then it’s Arthur, standing on the deck of the Prydwen, his blue eyes cold._

_“You mean nothing to me.” He says. “I can never be with someone like you. I can never love someone like you. You’ve no place here. Dismissed.”_

_She falls on her knees and grasps his hands but he pushes her away._

_“Knight Cail, Knight Rhys. Escort this woman from my ship. Now.”_

“Allie, Allie wake up.” A pair of arms shake her awake. “Are you ok?”

She nods and runs a hand over her damp forehead. Not real. Just a dream. Just a… Her hand instinctively reaches for the bottle of Bourbon next to the cot but Danse pulls it away. 

“Give me that bottle Jack.”

“No.”

“What the fuck do you mean? Give me the bottle now or get out of here.”

“No.” He says again, firmer this time. “I’m not going to continue standing by while you kill yourself.”

“Nobody forced you to follow me. Nobody asked you to be here.” She staggers to her feet, ignoring the sharp stabbing pain in her temple. “Why are you still here? GET OUT OF HERE!” She stumbles to the table and grabs another bottle before collapsing back on the cot. “Just… leave me alone.” She curls up, facing away from him, knees against her chest. She hears him sigh and leave the room and soon the nightmares return. Everything is as it should be.

_Everything is back the way it was. Their car is parked in the garage, Codsworth is making dinner and Nate is bouncing Shaun on his knee._

_“Honey, did you want to invite your sister for dinner next week?” She says, sitting down on the couch next to him. Nate’s head whips around, his eyes blood red, a bullet lodged in his chest._

_“Murderer.” He whispers. “Our only son. Murderer.”_

_“I didn’t have a choice.” She stammers. “I didn’t…”_

_“Spare me the excuses Allie.”_

_“Nate, you need to listen to me. I…”_

_“No.” He shouts, and they aren’t in the living room anymore. They are on top of the Mass Fusion building, the detonation button unusually large, green lightning splitting the sky around them. “I don’t. I never have to listen to you again. I’m dead. Dead and it is all your fault. YOURS.”_

***

Arthur listens to the tape again. 

_Sir, I submit this report through Knight Cain. A few hours ago, a small group of Minutemen infiltrated the Institute and put an end to the threat it represented to the Commonwealth. It is my hope that this joint effort of a Brotherhood of Steel Paladin and the people of the Commonwealth solidifies the co-operation between the Brotherhood and the Commonwealth Minutemen. As of this time, I ask that I am relieved of my command and hereby resign my commission. Ad victoriam. Regards, Paladin Hughes._

The tape ends and he pushes it back in. It plays again, filling the silence of his cabin. It’s been over a months since the Institute fell and in that time nobody has seen her as if the irradiated earth swallowed her whole. Even Garvey, the Minutemen’s second in command, had been unusually tight lipped.

 _I ask that I am relieved of my command and hereby resign by commission._ What the hell did that even mean? One second she was ice, the next fire- always shifting from shape to shape, from role to role. The General of the Minutemen. A Paladin of the Brotherhood. Another wanderer traversing the Commonwealth, chasing ghosts. Yet from that first moment he’d laid eyes on her it had felt… different. Sitting together, in that dimly lit room in the Third Rail, he felt like he belonged. In those moments the weight wasn’t quite as heavy. 

He sighs and restarts the tape.


	19. Chapter 19

Danse paces the empty corridors. One foot, then another. The soft sound of his footsteps the only thing that distracts him from the unnerving silence of the compound. Every now and then a bottle shatters in the other room and he hears a stifled sob. And then it’s silent.

They’ve been holed up in here for almost three weeks now, an isolated underground facility in the middle of the Glowing Sea. At first he tried to give her space, to wait until she was ready to talk. It doesn’t work. Not the space. Not the food he brings her. Every day she slips a little further away from him, from reality itself.

He is the only one that knows about Shaun. He knows what really happened down there, what destroying the Institute cost her. He can almost see it. Her blue eyes filled with determination as she pulls the trigger and then his blood, her son’s blood, covers her hands. 

Then she leaves the room and does what needs to be done. The Institute lies destroyed. That same night he finds her, bag strapped to her back, walking away from it all. Without a second thought, he follows. Now, she deploys the same tactics he is so familiar with, trying to make light of the situation, to hide her feelings at all costs. The same bloody thing he’d tried to do that day in the bunker when he was forced to come face to face with his true identity.

Anger, betrayal, loyalty, loss- those emotions are all too familiar to him even if he never dares show them. Or hadn’t to anyone that wasn’t her. And now he’d spent three weeks watching her, the person who pulled him back from the abyss, fall in head first. 

He made sure the bunker was secured. Made sure there was food. That they were still protected from radiation. He cleaned her power armor. Fixed a dent in the left leg of his own. Searched the building from top to bottom to isolate any and all security issues. He even set up a trip wire and a light minefield near the door incase anything tried to break in from that cursed wasteland. 

None of it works. She stays in that damned bed with those damned bottles.

No more. She isn’t going to end up like…No…He won’t let it. Never again.

He walks into the room, door swinging wildly, slamming behind him. She is sitting crosslegged on the bed, eyes half closed, a bottle of water resting against the wall next to her. He comes to a stop in front of her, suddenly uncertain. He’s gone over the words many times over the last few days but they aren’t right… not anymore. 

“Allie…” he starts but she interrupts him.

“Are you going to tell me I did the right thing? That I’ve got nothing to feel guilty about?” She looks at him, her blue eyes red with the nights spent with nothing but a bottle for company. “That the Commonwealth is finally free to enter an era of peace and prosperity?” She spits out the last half of that sentence, the corners of her mouth curled up in a sneer. “That killing my son, destroying everything he’d built, was a price worth paying? That Nate would have understood?” Her voice is high, touched with notes he’d never heard from her before. Anger and self pity and despair. “Is that what you are here to tell me Jack?” She challenges, her voice venom.

“No.” He says and his eyes are fixed straight at hers. That simple word deflates everything, the anger suddenly dispersing from her gaze until her body slumps against the wall.

“No?” she says softly, almost pleading.

“No.” He says, his voice firmer, strong. “I can’t tell you how to feel or cope with this, soldier.” He sits down next to her. “I told you about Cutler shortly after we first met… I told you I had to kill him.” He sighs and continues. “Cutler was an honorable man. He would have done anything for him team, anything. As far as the Brotherhood is concerned I found him towards the back of the cave and shot him because the mutants had injected him with the FEV but..." He wipes a trickle of sweat forming on his forehead. "but that isn’t the whole truth.” His face flushes. This isn’t a memory he wants to relive. Not in the waking hours. “I…I found him eating the… he was…” His voice breaks, eyes fixed at the wall. He can see Cutler hunched over the Knights he’d led into battle that morning, pawing, flesh ripping… “That thing I found… that wasn’t Cutler. The real Cutler died the second the damned virus destroyed his brain. That man in the Institute… he was not the same Shaun you lost. And if your husband was half the soldier you are, he would have understood.”

“Did you ever forgive yourself?” 

“No.”

It hangs in the air between them. No. The truth no-one wants to face. 

“But it’s something I have learned to live with. That’s what people like us do Allie. It’s what we have to do.”

“I’m… I’m not sure I can keep living with it Jack.”

“Yes you can. And you will.” He cups her face gently, willing her to face him. Her eyes meet his. “We do this so that others don’t have to. So that others never have to know what it’s like to live through this. And now they don't have to. The constant paranoia of living in the Institute’s shadow vanished the second you pressed that button. The kidnappings, the fear and the threat of their technology running amok… it’s all gone thanks to you Allie.”

“The cost…” she whispers. “The…”

“The price of war is steep. It takes its toll on both sides of the battlefield. But we have to be willing to accept those losses if it means there is an end in sight. Not today. Not tomorrow. But one damned day, there will be an end to this. Do you have any idea what’s happened here? What you’ve done will be felt for years to come. It’s destined to become a part of history. A tale of a lone soldier who made this land a better place. A place where people no longer have to live in fear, but instead, live in peace.”

“Peace?” Her eyes flash, light then dark. 

“I don’t know what the Old World was like. Your ideas…your dreams…They trickle down to us like forgotten memories. But for the Commonwealth? For this age? This is the best peace we can hope for. But we need you. The Minutemen. The Brotherhood.”

“Arthur,” she whispers. And the memories flood over her. The tape. Arthur.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This took a while! Sorry guys :) Thanks for sticking with me! Things should be looking up (within reason) for Allie and the Commonwealth


End file.
